The Squire Years
by Quatre-sama
Summary: chapter 11 is finally available! Kel and Sir Sacherell discuss their team-up. Kel tried to figure out what Neal's kiss really meant. Please R&R!
1. Encounters

All right--here goes. This is my very first Tamora Pierce fanfic, and it's my take on the possibilities in the upcoming books of the Protector of the Small series. I don't know exactly what pairings are going to occur--I'm a fan of Neal, Cleon, Joren, _and_ Raoul. So if you're oriented one way over another, please bear with me. I have no clue where this is going to end. The title is subject to change, as well...  
  
Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and used with her direct permission.  
  
// - denotes thoughts  
  
The Squire Years  
  
Chapter One: Encounters  
  
The chapel of the chamber of the Ordeal was empty. All of the squires who were to be knighted at the Midwinter were with their knight masters, at the congress. Every knight of the realm was rumored to be in Corus. Kel wondered if the King's Champion was around.  
  
Neal had told her the story of Alanna's absence--and Kel gathered from what other people said that this was one woman who didn't go back on her word. // She's probably on border patrol up near Scanra or something,// Kel thought with a sigh. //Will I ever get to meet her?//  
  
Kneeling down before the altar, she tried to clear her mind. Muddling her thoughts while praying to the Gods was the last thing she wanted to do. She slowed her breathing, remembering the time she'd been taught to meditate. She clapped her hands together twice before bowing her head in prayer.  
  
//Merciful Goddess, please grant me the strength to continue through my training. Help me face the challenges of life with dignity and honor.// It was a Yamani prayer, modified for her situation. Kel much preferred the simple Yamani ways to the pomp of the Eastern Lands. She didn't like the flowery prayers she'd heard her sisters say.  
  
When she finished, she heard a rustle behind her. A woman was sitting on the single pew that ran along the back wall of the chapel. In her lap sat a black cat that was purring loudly and clawing at her forest green skirts, trying to get more comfortable.  
  
"I think most Tortallan priests would consider that blasphemy," the woman said, her voice low and almost husky. She nodded toward Kel's hands. "Why did you clap?"  
  
Kel hid her embarrassment. "Yamani custom," she answered. "You always clap or ring a bell before you pray at a shrine. It's all the same gods, though. Just different approaches to communing with them. I often forget that Easterners might not understand my actions." The woman smiled crookedly, and Kel got the feeling that she could be herself. "And wouldn't the Mithran priests object to having a pet in a chapel?"  
  
Her question was met with a grin. "The Mother Goddess has a fondness for cats; I have it on the best authority." She looked down at the kitten in her lap, petting it gently. "And this little fellow reminds me of someone who always had the Goddess's favor."  
  
Kel crossed the chapel to sit beside this unusual person. "You speak as though you know Her personally."  
  
The woman's eyes flicked up to Kel's face; their violet shade was one Kel had never seen before. "A wise person once told me that the Gods occasionally meddle in human affairs, and all humans can do is follow their advice and move on. I guess I was one of the lucky ones."  
  
"Are you one of the royal ladies?" Kel asked, noticing the scars on the woman's hands. The royal ladies were the group of noblewomen who traveled with and tended to the Queen, and were trained in combat. The Queen's Riders was the other principal group of fighters women could belong to, but that was not for women of noble blood--and this particular woman carried herself with more dignity than most nobles Kel had ever met.  
  
She tilted her head to one side and smiled oddly. "I serve their majesties in numerous ways. Are you Squire Keladry of Mindelan?"  
  
Kel nodded. "Yes, I am."  
  
"Has a knight chosen you yet?"  
  
Kel shook her head. "No one has been chosen yet. Lord Wyldon says the knights shall bide their time because of the congress; I know that it will take even longer to place me, though."  
  
"Because you're a girl," the woman finished, narrowing her eyes. "I have friends in the court who have told me of your abilities, lady squire. You are no less a fighter than any boy who has gone through your training. Sir Myles of Olau speaks of your intelligence, Duke Baird of your stamina. Veralidaine Sarrasri has told me about your kindness toward animals, and Sir Raoul has told me of your leadership abilities on many occasions. Any knight who does not choose you as his squire is a fool."  
  
Kel looked down at her hands. "Or a Conservative."  
  
The woman nodded, standing up. Kel was surprised to be a good four inches taller than her. "Yes. There are certainly many of those around. But I think you shall impress even the least flexible of the lot. Lord Wyldon has spoken well of you toward His Majesty, from what I have heard."  
  
Setting the cat on the floor at her feet, the woman sighed softly before taking Kel's hand. "If there is anything I can do for you, please feel free to ask. I'm more than willing to speak to the other knights on your behalf."  
  
Kel shook her head willfully. "Thank you, but I have to decline. I think I'd feel better if I let things happen on their own." //I don't want a mercy placement,// Kel thought stubbornly. // I want to earn my position on my own merit.//  
  
"So mote it be," the woman replied softly, walking toward the chapel door. She turned around slightly, gazing at Kel with a serious expression. "Goddess bless you."  
  
*****  
  
At supper that night, Kel was still trying to figure out the whole thing. Though it was quite normal for one of the royal ladies to know about The Girl, how would a noblewoman know so much about knights of the realm? The violet-eyed woman knew Sir Myles and Sir Raoul. They were both nobles, so that made some amount of sense. But to know Daine? Kel always got the impression that Daine was the sort of girl who stayed away from courtly games.  
  
She was still mulling things over when Neal sat down beside her. "What's bothering you this evening?"  
  
"Oh, nothing," she answered, biting into a slice of buttered bread.  
  
"She's looked like that all evening," Cleon said as he paused by their table, tray in hand. He always seemed to be around--and eavesdropping-- lately.  
  
"You've been watching her all evening?" Faleron asked, raising an eyebrow. Cleon turned a bright shade of red and sputtered before continuing toward his own table.  
  
Neal watched Cleon with an unusual expression. "I do believe the chap is smitten with you, Keladry."  
  
Kel had heard the same thing from Lalasa and Tian just months before. Was no one in their right mind anymore? "Hogwash," she snapped. "You just like that sort of fanciful thing."  
  
Neal shrugged. "Think what you will. I just don't want you to be surprised when he's serenading you late into the evening, and sending you horribly penned poetry."  
  
"Yeah," Merric chimed in, "like the poems Neal wrote for Uline of Hannalof!"  
  
Kel tried to hide a smirk as she watched her older friend squirm uncomfortably.  
  
"So," Seaver began, trying to change the subject in order to rescue Neal, "who all have you seen here for the congress?"  
  
They began to talk about all the knights and nobles who had traveled from the far corners of the kingdom. It was fascinating to Kel, the idea that they might have a chance to meet all of their real-life heroes. It was only the second congress since the Immortals War, and the somber quality of the last one--when so many knights and nobles were visibly absent--would not be such a presence this time.  
  
"I hear the Lioness is here," Faleron said, pulling Kel out of her thoughts.  
  
"The Lioness?" she asked, hazel eyes wide.  
  
Merric nodded. "I saw her on the practice courts this afternoon, after lessons. She was sparring with the Wildcat. I'm hoping that maybe she'll be able to give us all a few pointers sometime."  
  
Kel made a small snorting sound. "She won't."  
  
"What?" Seaver asked. "Of course she'd want to meet you I would think!"  
  
Neal shook his head. "Kel's right. Lady Alanna won't be around us; the king forbade her to take any part in Kel's training. It would be unfair-- and would make the conservative nobles wary."  
  
Kel put on her best expressionless, Yamani face and turned to Merric. "Was it exciting, watching her?"  
  
He nodded. "She's fast. And she's nothing at all like you Kel. She's really short--and fiery."  
  
"Fiery?" Kel was baffled by the description.  
  
Neal rolled his eyes. "Her hair; it's quite red. And her temper matches it."  
  
Kel stared at him with wide eyes. The woman she'd met in the chapel--she'd had red hair. And she was short. The scars on her hands were indicative of battle. Surely she hadn't run into the Lioness without knowing it. "What are her eyes like?" she asked Neal anxiously. "Are they purple?"  
  
Neal nodded. "And Mithros, they're lovely. Her eyes put even the Queen's to shame."  
  
Kel laughed suddenly, surprising all the boys. "It was her! I met her in the chapel this afternoon!" 


	2. On the Practice Courts

And now I begin part two... Thanks to everyone who's given feedback! I'm really grateful!  
  
Umm... there are some discrepancies in In the Hand of the Goddess that I'm taking advantage of in this fic. During Alanna's battle with Dain, the Tusaine knight, it refers to Douglass of Veldine as Raoul's squire. However, in the chapter "Fears" it says that Sacherell of Wellam is Raoul's squire. For the sake of this story (the upcoming chapters, that is), I'm going to go with Sacherell having been Raoul's squire (they just have a closer friendship). I just don't want to deal with Maura & the wolves, and she's Douglass's ward. *sweat*  
  
Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her (indirect) permission.  
  
// - denotes thoughts  
  
The Squire Years  
  
Chapter Two: On the Practice Courts  
  
The knights began watching the squires' training during the third day of the congress. Neal and Merric squirmed under the scrutiny of all the large men around the practice field, and sometimes it showed in their fighting. The already-claimed squires were practicing, too; occasionally Kel could hear the boasting and bragging of their knight-masters.  
  
The morning drill began with staff combat. While fighting against Faleron of King's Reach, Kel made the mistake of looking over her opponent's shoulder. Lord Raoul--commander of the King's Own--was there, talking to a tall, wiry knight. She didn't recognize the other man, but she was well aware that they were both paying close attention to her. A hard rap on her knuckles brought her focus back to Faleron.  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't get caught up in them, Kel," he growled. "Don't blow it."  
  
She forced him back with a counter-attack. "And don't you stop pulling your shots. You should've broken bones with a clear strike like that."  
  
After staff fighting, the squires moved on to swords. Kel and the other first-years were less experienced, and paired themselves with other first- and second-year squires. Only Neal was permitted to duel with the older boys, and Kel was proud to see the impressed reaction of the observing knights. Kel herself did not fair badly. She beat Merric, but lost to Quinden in the second round.  
  
Wrestling flew by, everyone managing decently. It wasn't Kel's strongest technique, but it certainly wasn't her weakest, either. Her arm-- strengthening exercises had paid off. She managed to hold her own against Cleon, who was three years older and a good deal heavier than she.  
  
By the time they got to tilting, Kel felt worn out. The squires had been giving their all in order to show the knights that they were worthy. When she mounted and finally brought Peachblossom around, she was the last in line.  
  
Lord Wyldon signaled for the squires to begin--first those at the far quintain--which bore the tiny smudge of paint he had applied as a target two years before, when Kel had been smug about her ability. After the first squire finished, another from the second line began. The second quintain was suspended, and much more challenging. Kel was in the second line.  
  
The others had done well. Faleron and Yancen of Irenroha, both in her line, had even won a smattering of applause from the onlookers. As Kel and Peachblossom took their place, Kel leaned over to whisper in her mount's ear. "We can show them, right?"  
  
Her run was flawless. Not only did she manage to hit the more difficult target, she nailed it--and shattered her lance in the process. It had happened before, but this time the pain in her hand and wrist was eased by the clapping and whistles of the knights on the sidelines. Kel grinned back at Neal, then at the men perched on the fence.  
  
"Are you quite pleased with yourself, Squire Keladry?" Lord Wyldon asked. "Don't be arrogant, girl. Go get another lance."  
  
She nodded apologetically and began to dismount. But Wyldon's voice made her freeze.  
  
"Why don't you ask on of those men for a weighted lance?"  
  
She had practiced with a weighted lance from the first day, and Lord Wyldon knew that all of the spare lances were too light for her. She looked nervously over her shoulder at the row of knights, noticing for the first time that most of them carried various weapons. Were they planning on sparring with the squires?  
  
"Go on." His voice was calm, but stern. It reminded her of the many days she'd spent in trees and on edges of cliffs to battle her fear of heights, and how Lord Wyldon's quiet yet intimidating voice would coax her back down. She liked to think that he had been trying to help her then; maybe now he was helping her find a knight-master his own way.  
  
She dismounted and led Peachblossom over to the older men, stopping in front of Lord Raoul and his friend. "Sir, do you... do you have a weighted lance on hand?"  
  
Lord Raoul raised an eyebrow. "Weighted?" She could see he was holding back a grin. His black eyes danced as he looked down at her.  
  
"Yes, sir. None of the spare practice weapons are weighted. Surely yours are?" she felt bold and rude, but refused to look as embarrassed as she felt.  
  
Raoul smiled at his friend. "I don't have my lance, but Sacherell has his." He gestured to his companion, who was probably a good five years younger than him.  
  
Kel took the lance Sir Sacherell offered her with a light bow. "Keladry of Mindelan, sir."  
  
"Sacherell of Wellam," he replied, nodding politely. "Is it too heavy for you?"  
  
She hefted it, testing its weight. "No, sir, it's perfect."  
  
He looked surprised. "Mithros! Raoul wasn't kidding when he said you were a strong lass! Alanna rarely uses a lance so heavily weighted."  
  
Feeling uncomfortable in the center of attention--and being compared to the Lioness--Kel shifted from one foot to the other.  
  
"Mount up, Squire Keladry," Lord Wyldon called impatiently. She bowed again in thanks and mounted Peachblossom.  
  
When she returned to the line, Faleron smiled at her. "Looks like you've found your knight-master."  
  
"What?"  
  
Neal gave her a dry look. "Don't play innocent, Kel. You've always been one of Lord Raoul's favorites. Surely he'll choose you."  
  
"That's ridiculous," Kel muttered, preparing for another run at the quintain. This time the knights were eager to see if she could handle Sir Sacherell's lance. //Gods of mountains and rivers,// Kel thought in Yamani, //please don't let me bring dishonor to my teachers and my family.// She perfectly executed the maneuver and earned the cheers of several knights. Glancing over to the fences, she saw Sir Sacherell and Lord Raoul clapping along with the others, smiling at her.  
  
"That a girl," Lord Wyldon murmured as she rode back to the line.  
  
*****  
  
After lunch, instead of going to class, the squires were told to go back to the practice courts. This time they were split into three groups. Three leaders were chosen--Joren of Stone Mountain, who would lead the defensive line; Cleon of Kennan, who would lead the attacking charge; and Kel, who would lead the renegade troop. She was the only first year in charge, and felt sheepish. But Faleron, one of the better second-years, whispered that he was more than happy to have her in his usual place.  
  
Unlike other battle simulations, this "free-fight" would take place over the course of the next week, and their objectives would be kept from one another. The leaders were allowed to have councils, and send "emissaries" for negotiations. But the biggest difference was that some of the knights took part in it. Each group leader would have an advisor--to be announced later--and two or three knights in their team. The squires were told to treat the knights as equals.  
  
The knights in Kel's group were Sirs Geoffrey of Meron, Sacherell of Wellam, and much to her chagrin, Conal of Mindelan. Her squires were Prince Roald, Faleron, Merric, and Yancen--a group Kel was quite pleased with.  
  
After dividing them up, Lord Wyldon and Lord Raoul stood in the middle of the practice courts, expressions grim.  
  
"You've never had a lengthy battle simulation, and you've never studied the importance of alliances," Wyldon said, eyeing each squire carefully. "Those who have been to my Strategies and Tactics lectures know that alliances can make or break a war. You will learn the power of espionage. Carefully choose whom you trust."  
  
Raoul stepped forward, clearing his throat. He towered over Lord Wyldon, who wasn't a short man. "Several of you will be assigned the role of a spy. Knights and squires alike will be approached by Lord Wyldon at any time during the course of the campaign. Only Wyldon and Sergeant Ezeko will know who all the spies are. It is your duty to find the traitors in your own company."  
  
"Keladry of Mindelan," Wyldon called out. "Step forward with your men." She and her group did so. The training master circled her as he spoke. "This is the crucial faction in our war. This is a renegade troop, loyal to no one. She will most assuredly have spies in your groups. You should not trust her as far as you can throw her. The same goes for all of her men. Think of them as pirates or bandits or a small fanatical faction, if you will." He stopped in front of Joren and Cleon. "Your first goal should be to win her alliance. Otherwise, you are so evenly matched that you will fight to attrition, and her men will swoop in and conquer your lands."  
  
Kel was nervous. She'd never been in charge of an offensive group before, and she didn't like being such a central figure in the plan. And she really didn't like the idea of Joren being a potential enemy. She still easily recalled all the nastiness she'd endured from him during her years as a page.  
  
"But for today," Raoul called, "we will work on training in groups. Tomorrow will be dedicated to strategy."  
  
Kel's group commandeered one of the fencing courts and she spoke to them seriously before beginning the exercises, "My lord has put me in charge, but I want each of you to feel free to suggest anything--strategies, exercises--whatever. And if you have any disputes with my leadership, I'd rather have you tell me your doubts than feel insecure about my plans or leadership. Any questions?"  
  
"Mithros, Kel, I'd forgotten how you could be," Conal smirked.  
  
Kel realized--not for the first time--that she liked her brother much more when he was far away. She gave him a slightly irritated look. "Is that a compliment, sir, or are you being pert?" She sounded so much like Lord Wyldon that it made her flinch.  
  
Conal grinned. "It's a compliment. I think being under your direction will be an educational experience."  
  
Shaking her head, Kel instructed her team to start on their standard exercise regime. She assigned Roald to lead the drills and teach the knights the order of stretches and techniques. While he did that, she pulled Conal aside.  
  
"Please don't treat me like your kid sister," Kel whispered. "It's bad enough having to command knights and older squires. Don't make it worse."  
  
Conal nodded, frowning slightly. "Do you want me to switch sides? I'm sure Wyldon would understand."  
  
Kel shook her head. "No--just treat me like you would any other squire."  
  
"Sure thing," he said, ruffling her hair. He joined the others in their drills and Kel sighed. This was going to be a strange week. 


	3. Strategic Concerns

The realm of Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her (indirect) permission.  
  
// - denotes thoughts  
  
The Squire Years   
Chapter Three: Strategic Concerns  
  
The next day was dedicated to developing their power bases. Unlike the previous week, the squires began their day inside in the classrooms while the pages were on the practice courts. Each group had been assigned a section of three adjoining classrooms to work in. In each classroom there were large sheets of paper on the wall, and chalk to draw with. These were crucial in mapmaking for their defense plans.   
  
Joren had been granted the southeast side of the palace to defend. This included the palace wall and parts of the Royal Forest. It was probably the easiest place in all of Corus to defend; he was allowed to assume command of the garrison weapons--several catapults and specially crafted pivoting cauldrons atop the wall--made for dumping boiling oil onto any attackers. Though he was granted permission to rely on them for his initial defense strategy--which would be present during lessons within the next four days--it was understood that he would not use them during the actual fight.   
  
Cleon's group was given the hunting lodge as a base. It was a good half-hour's ride into the Royal Forest; as pages they had been there numerous times. The lodge was fortified, though not heavily, and Cleon's group had to work mainly on an offensive plan, taking into consideration the resources at the lodge and the distance needed to be covered.  
  
Kel wasn't sure whom she felt sorrier for. Defense was always easier for her to plan, but Joren's group would have to rely much more on calculations--especially concerning the catapults. Cleon's force, though not as well equipped, had more manpower. His group was the largest, outnumbering Joren's almost at a two-to-one ratio.  
  
Kel knew that her group would be the balancing force. If she sided with Cleon, there was little chance for Joren to adequately defend his keep. If she sided with Joren, Cleon's group would be obliterated--the defense always had the upper hand when fortified.  
  
Her group lacked in equipment; they were supposed to represent the bandits and mercenaries who fought regardless of the underlying principles. She only had one mage in the group--Prince Roald--and she had never witnessed his magical abilities. But all the Gifted squires were trained in basic warcraft magic. She'd have to get a full account from him later.  
  
Her group's base was at a random point in the Royal Forest, close to the Oleron River. They were supposed to be a virtually defenseless camp, guarded only by sentries and protection spells.  
  
She and Roald managed the sketches and maps of their camp, deciding who would take which posts at which times and devising several defensive plans. The other squires were quick to point out flaws in the plans, and the knights pointed out different ways to make the best use of their surroundings. They all worked well together. The plans were simple and relied on swiftness more than complex tactics. Kel had noted, with some degree of pride, that her group was made of the fastest squires and knights. Lord Wyldon had obviously considered that when choosing her group--but what were the strengths of the others?  
Joren's defense squad had the best archers. Sir Imrah of Legann had won every archery contest he'd participated in during the last year, according to Roald, his squire. And Joren and Balduin had always been the best of the pages in previous years. Their skills would be crucial for defense. Cleon's group, meanwhile, was full of excellent swordsmen. Her own brother, Inness of Mindelan, was one of the better swordsmen in the realm--and he'd taken Cleon as his squire because the big redheaded youth was the best in his class. Neal had always been a natural with the sword as well, having begun his studies long before becoming a page.  
  
//So, Joren's group has the upper hand in long-range defense, and if they fail, Cleon's unit will easily trounce them in a close-range battle,// Kel thought, glancing into the other classroom where Joren was sitting. He was writing furiously as his regiment gave suggestions.  
  
She was surprised to see him working so well with the other boys. She'd never personally seen him work in a group, but she'd had him pegged for the kind of boy who would ignore his underlings and do things his own way.  
  
He looked up at her, his bright blue eyes fixed on hers. His expression was impossible to read. Kel wondered if he would even be willing to make an alliance with her. They hadn't really been on friendly terms with him for very long--and she didn't trust him at all. Three years of fighting and nastiness could not be forgotten with a pretty apology. And she wasn't sure how much of that apology was sincere.  
  
He'd told her that his knight-master, Sir Paxton of Nond, had changed a lot of his views on things. Sir Paxton was courting Kel's older sister, Adie, and there were hopes of a marriage between the families; so it was possible. But it was still too strange for Kel to honestly believe.  
  
Joren smiled slightly, then returned to his writing.  
  
Kel shook her head. //I'll never understand him. Why waste time analyzing him?// she wondered, ignoring the little voice in her head that was reminding her that it was always best to know her enemies.  
  
  
Supper was strange that night. The squires had split into their groups at the tables. While Kel normally ate with Neal and Seaver, she was alarmed to see that they'd gone elsewhere. Neal sat with Cleon and Esmond, two tables over, while Seaver sat with Joren.  
  
She wanted to sit with her friends--to talk about something other than the simulation. She was thankful, though, that Roald and Merric and Faleron were in her group.  
  
That night King Jonathan showed up for the meal. He had two other guests with him; one was a tall, lanky fellow in his early forties. He dressed fairly casually, and carried himself differently than any noble Kel had ever seen before. Lord Wyldon introduced him as the Baron of Pirate's Swoop--George Cooper. He was a handsome man, with dancing hazel eyes, but Kel couldn't take her hazel eyes of his companion. His wife, Lady Alanna of Trebond and Olau--or as she was more commonly known, Sir Alanna, the Lioness. She was the first female night in Tortall in over a century. She had become the King's Champion at the age of twenty and was known throughout the Eastern Lands for her heroic deeds. Her actions had made it possible for the king to grant girls the right to train for knighthood; Kel wouldn't have to disguise herself as a boy for eight years, as Alanna had.  
  
Kel could hardly eat throughout dinner. Every time she looked at the Lioness her eyes were met with a steady purple gaze. Did this mean that Lord Wyldon and the king were permitting her to speak to the Lioness now? She wondered what this sudden change was about.  
  
Halfway through the meal, the king rose from his seat. He motioned for everyone to remain seated. "You've studied hard to reach this point, new squires. And we know that you'll only improve from here. While the last few years have been odd, with the unusual changes of pace in your studies, know that you are only better for it. Knights are no longer solitary warriors, as they were in my days as a squire. Warcraft has changed since the Immortals War, and we have changed with it."  
  
Kel nodded as she took in King Jonathan's words. He was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen; and now she had rid herself of the anger she had felt when he had allowed Lord Wyldon to put her on probation because she was a girl. She had proven herself in her studies and in combat, and the king himself had told her he was proud. She listened with rapt attention.  
  
"The knights of the realm want squires who can work in groups; boys--" he glanced at Kel and smiled,"--and girls--who can follow orders as well as they give them. This new battle scenario is your chance to prove to them that you will be able to handle a real war. Show them that your groups can come together to attack or defend decisively.  
  
"You will have advisors," he continued, "as Lord Wyldon has mentioned. I shall be working with the defensive line; I have experience defending castles and forts. Sir Alanna, however, has much experience in leading assaults. Cleon of Kennan, your group shall work with her. And George Cooper is one of the best teachers of what I've always called 'back-hall fighting.' His area of expertise will help Keladry of Mindelan's group. After classes tomorrow morning, each group will meet with their advisors and review any battle plans made this afternoon. Until then, Mithros guide you."  
  
The king left the room swiftly before any of the squires had the chance to stand and bow. After a moment of silence, the usual hum of conversation was present again.  
  
"George Cooper, eh?" Merric asked in a whisper. "I hear that he was an outlaw--pardoned by the king so he could marry the Lioness."  
  
Kel looked to Roald for confirmation, but the prince smiled mysteriously. Looking back at Merric, she shrugged. "For whatever reason he was pardoned, I'm sure he earned it."  
  
"Goddess, strike me down if I've ever met a man more obstinate than you!" The Lioness's rough yell brought silence to the squires' mess hall. All eyes shifted toward the head table, where the King's Champion was standing, palms flat on the table, glaring at Lord Wyldon. The training master, for his part, looked as calm as he ever had.  
  
"Alanna," the baron murmured, placing a hand on his hot-tempered wife's shoulder. The lady knight, suddenly aware of all the pairs of eyes fixed on her, flushed crimson.  
  
"I apologize, Lady Alanna," Wyldon began, not sounding very sorry at all, "but I won't change my mind."  
  
Kel had a feeling they were talking about her. She glanced across the room at Neal. His worried eyed met hers before turning back to the boys at his own table.  
  
  
"So what do you think that was about?" Kel asked him later, as they headed toward the library.  
  
Neal sighed. "Father told me that the Lioness is going to be in Corus for the next four months, if not longer. She was hoping to work closely with all the squires--help teach fencing--but she and the Stump can't agree on anything."  
  
Kel sniffed at his disrespectful nickname for Lord Wyldon. "Why won't he agree? She wouldn't be showing favoritism if she taught all of us."  
  
Neal nodded as he opened the door for Kel. "He's disagreeing because he's a disagreeable person. Does he need an excuse? Besides--he's probably refusing everything she requests; I'm surprised she's allowed to work with my group for the battle."  
  
Kel couldn't help but feel jealous. She'd always wanted to have a nice long conversation with the Champion--and she had blown the once chance she had.  
They made their way to the long table in the center of the room where several pages and squires studied. Owen of Jesslaw, a page one year younger than Kel, jumped up to give her a casual one-armed hug.  
  
"I'm glad you could find it in you to stoop down to the level of us pages!" he laughed. Kel noticed with some amusement that his voice had dropped half an octave over the summer. "And Mithros, Kel--you've grown even taller!"  
  
She nodded, sitting next to him. "Another inch. I think there's ogre blood in the Mindelan line."  
  
"Ah--that would explain a lot of things," Neal sighed, falling into the seat beside her.   
  
Cleon, seated across the table from them both, snorted and spoke to the first-year pages in the group. "Unless your name is Nealan of Queenscove, don't ever speak to Kel like that. She'll run you through with a lance."  
  
"Or bludgeon your with a staff!" Owen interjected.  
  
Cleon grimaced. "For some reason she lets this oaf get away with murder."  
  
Neal leaned over, wrapping his arms around Kel's waist. "Some people are more charismatic than others," he said, smiling smugly at Cleon.  
  
Kel rolled her eyes and pushed her friend away, hoping he hadn't noticed the quickness of her breath or the sudden heat in her cheeks.   
  
"Don't let Lord Wyldon see you acting like that, Queenscove--not if you want her to stay."  
  
All heads turned to the doorway where Joren stood, looking handsome in a blue velvet tunic. He wore a friendly expression--unlike any Kel had seen before.  
  
"Can I join you?" he asked, showing them that he had brought a stack of papers, books, and a bottle of ink with him.  
  
No one spoke for a moment; even the first-year pages seemed to gather that Joren was not really desired company. Finally Kel nodded to him and Cleon gestured to the vacant seat beside him.  
  
Neal wasn't too certain about it all. He narrowed his eyes at Joren. "Just what are you doing here, anyway?"  
  
He was one of the younger squires, but having started his training at fifteen, he was old enough to take the Ordeal of Knighthood. Next to Yancen and Cleon, Neal was the biggest squire in the palace--and his temper made him the most threatening at times,  
  
Joren gazed at him evenly, shifting through his class work. "I'm here to study--and talk to Cleon and Keladry."  
  
It was about the mock-battle. All of a sudden, Kel felt more at ease about Joren's presence. Neal still seemed ruffled, but Kel decided that he wouldn't be Neal if he wasn't perturbed in some way or other.  
  
She and Cleon pulled Joren to a smaller table in the corner while Neal glared and explained the battle scenario to Owen, who complained that the squires had all the "jolly assignments."  
  
Cleon, meanwhile, was being difficult. "I don't see how any alliances can be formed if all three of us are present," he said, directing a scowl toward Joren.   
  
The blond squire sniffed and looked at Kel. "The question is, what are Lord Wyldon's objectives?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Kel asked, her usually dreamy-looking hazel eyes intensely locked with Joren's icy blue stare.  
  
"You heard the king. Our goal is to prove that the different groups can work together. But is the knight's duty to fight effectively, or prevent larger battles?"  
  
Cleon scoffed. "This is no time to get philosophical, Joren. It's a battle simulation, not a diplomatic endeavor."  
  
"Wait a second, though," Kel said, resting her hand on Cleon's arm. "Why would they have included diplomacy if this was merely a fighting exercise." She turned to Joren, her expression quizzical. "What do you have in mind?"  
  
He smiled. "They're judging us on our battle plans, and then the tactics we use once the strategies fail, right? Well, if we come up with glorious plans for all scenarios, they'll still give us credit if the battle never happens."  
  
"What in the Goddess's name kind of plan is that?" Cleon asked incredulously.  
  
With a sigh, Joren continued. "Diplomacy is the key. King Jonathan has been involved with wars and disasters since his coronation day. What would impress him more than seeing tomorrow's youth acknowledge that compromise can prevent human loss? We don't have to fight. We can be prepared for battle, and fight should there be any kind of need--but that doesn't mean that we should rush to arm ourselves first."  
  
Kel leaned forward, studying Joren. "Why are you doing this? You've always been the kind of person to hit first--why the sudden promotion of pacifism?"  
He smiled again--an eerie, twisted smile that made her nervous. "People change, Squire Keladry. I want to impress the king and Lord Wyldon as much as you do. This is the first time we've been given a choice in our scenario; let's show them that we can make good choices. We can build an alliance between the three groups, and prevent the battle."  
  
Cleon nodded reluctantly. "The worst thing that could happen is being removed from our positions as leaders. There's really nothing to lose."  
  
"You both have knight-masters. It's easier for you two to accept being replaced," Kel said, feeling nervous.   
  
Joren reached over and touched her shoulder lightly, causing both Kel and Cleon to tense up visibly. "Don't worry, Kel. I'm sure someone will take you. Lord Raoul will whisk you away to help command the King's Own if no one else steps forward."  
  
He stood and went back over to the large table, leaving two very puzzled squires behind him.   
  
Kel and Cleon exchanged worried glances. "Should we wait for the stab in the back?" Kel asked.  
  
Cleon sighed. "If he turns against one of us, he turns against us both. Agreed?"  
  
She sighed. "I'll talk to my men tomorrow, and then we'll discuss it."  
  
  
To be continued... 


	4. Negotiations

I apologize to anyone who was waiting for the next chapter. *sweat* I was buried under a pile of Japanese Literature for a huge term paper. Right now I'm supposed to be translating a bunch of 18th c. Spanish documents for another term paper, but I'm a bit more attracted to Kel and the boys! ;) This part has been revised several times--I'm still not sure where I want this battle to go, so bear with me if I repost another version later. Goddess Bless!  
  
Disclaimer: Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and used with her (indirect) permission.  
  
// - denotes thoughts   
  
The Squire Years  
Chapter Four: Negotiations  
  
"You've got to be kidding!" Merric shouted, his face res with anger. "Kel-it's a set-up! Joren is just trying to throw us off and got Cleon to go with it!"  
  
Kel had considered that herself--but if Cleon was faking, he was the best player she had ever seen. Kel shook her head. "Cleon isn't working against us--at least not yet."  
  
"Besides," Roald interjected diplomatically, "the question isn't whether or not Joren's ideas are right, but whether or not we should have a secret alliance with Cleon's team if Joren is playing us all for fools."  
  
"How trustworthy is this Joren fellow, anyway?" Conal asked, sitting on Kel's desktop. "All I know is that he's Paxton's squire, and Pax is a great fellow--and the Nonds are a good family."  
  
"You can't judge a squire by his knight-master," Geoffrey of Meron said quietly. Kel recalled that his knight-master had been a traitor to all of Tortall, and had tried to kill the Lioness in a bloody coup on King Jonathan's coronation day. Sir Geoffrey continued, meeting Conal's eye evenly. "Yes, Paxton is a good man, but he didn't know Joren any better than we did when he took him as his squire."  
  
Sacherell of Wellam looked at Kel thoughtfully. "What do you think, Squire Keladry? You seem to know him well."  
  
Kel rubbed her hands nervously on her tunic. "Well, he's changed a lot since he became a squire. And if his new attitude isn't genuine, it means he's become sneakier than ever." She paused for a moment, replaying the conversation with Cleon and Joren in her mind. "He could've guessed that his speech would induce Cleon and I to enter a defensive alliance-that we would agree not to attack his group unless he attacks Cleon. He knows me well enough to know that I don't like to pick on people and start fights for the mere joy of fighting."  
  
"But he can't attack Cleon," Faleron pointed out. "The scenario requires Cleon to attack and attempt to take the palace. The only room for variation is our group."  
  
Kel chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Right. So in doing this, Joren has managed to neutralize us according to the alliance terms he knew we would choose." How could she play this scenario to her full advantage. She had to find a way to get involved in the battle. "What about espionage?"  
  
The others exchanged looks, not sure what to think of the whole thing.  
  
"By this afternoon we'll know who our spies are in each camp, I would think. Give me until then and I'll come up with something."  
  
"And the alliance?" Faleron asked with a sigh.  
  
"We'll go for it," Kel answered. The boys began to protest, but she silenced them with a wave of her hand. "We're bandits, right? Renegades? We don't have to necessarily keep out word." With a tiny smirk, Kel left the classroom and headed back to her room.  
  
  
As she expected, the first spy showed up before lunchtime. It was her own brother, Inness. Kel thought it a little ironic that he had been chosen, since he was Cleon's knight-master.  
  
Kel found his note under her door when she returned to her room to drop off her books. "Keladry," it read in his sharp, slanted, and instantly recognizable handwriting, "one of the plans involves third-party elimination. Cleon says he won't use it unless absolutely necessary, but he does see you as a threat. No one in his group wants to break your alliance--your clan is needed to break through Joren's defense. However, rest assured that they will turn against you at the end--with close-range weapons. Be sure to burn this when you're finished."  
  
Kel passed through the kitchens on her way to the dining hall, tossing the note into the stove fires. //This is too complex,// she thought with no small amount of frustration. //Ambassadors are for diplomacy; knights are for enforcing it. Why are they making us do this?//   
  
She straightened her tunic and walked into the dining hall, wondering if any other spied would show. She really wanted someone from Joren's group to give her a detailed account.   
  
And what about her own men? Who were the untrusting ones among them?  
  
Lunch was similar to supper the night before, with Kel's friends dispersed among the three larger groups. But this time, some of the knights had shown up as well.  
  
"If we fight together, we eat together," Sir Raoul said with a merry laugh, sitting next to Joren and looking bigger than ever.  
  
"I think they're just having fun with us," Faleron whispered with a scowl.  
  
"Well, we can't deny that," Sir Sacherell grinned as he and Sir Geoffrey sat down at their table. "This beats border patrol any day."  
  
Geoffrey nodded in agreement. "It's certainly an interesting way to choose a squire. We get to see who has faults we think we can mend, who has strengths we can enhance." He shrugged. "We never did anything so creative in my time."  
  
Kel said nothing as her group chattered through their meal; she was more concerned about her situation with Cleon. Suppose he did turn his troops against hers at the end. He had the best fencers, most certainly--but would Inness fight? What were the rules for the spies? She had stronger staff fighters, but that was it. She had the best squires for tilting, but that would do no good in a close-range battle.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Kel noticed a strange motion. Turning her head, she saw Sirl Raoul gesturing with one hand. He was using the strange hand signals that the members of the King's Own used. And he was directing them at Sacherell. Kel watched their silent communication for a moment before speaking up. "You are going to tell me what this is about, aren't you, Sir Sacherell?" she asked dryly.   
  
He grinned. "I think we've found the help we need. Raoul's going to talk to us after the meal, before we go to the practice courts."  
  
  
Twenty minutes later the three of them--Kel, Raoul, and Sacherell-were in one of the smaller libraries.  
Kel surprised them both upon her entrance. "I need you to start a war," she said boldly, looking Lord Raoul squarely in the eye.  
  
He blinked, surprised, then smiled at her. "Mithros, youngster, do you know what you're doing?"  
She nodded. I've made a defensive alliance with Cleon's group. If he attacks, as he will, my group is cut out of the fighting because of my agreement with Joren. However, if I can get Joren's group to make the fist move, I can join Cleon's forces and overrun the palace. That's where you come in."  
  
He arched one eyebrow. "You want me to go against Joren in the very beginning and reveal my role as a spy?"  
  
Kel smiled. "My lord, you know as well as I that wars often begin with misunderstandings. A sentry can always make mistakes."  
  
Sacherell grinned as he realized what Kel was saying. "Raoul--if you can get a sentry position, all we have to do is get Cleon's troops close enough for you to consider it a threat. One arrow and we can consider it within the confines of our alliance. Joren's plans to keep us out of the battle will backfire."  
Raoul nodded, grinning mischievously.  
  
Kel shook her head. "That's not exactly it. I want you to attack us." A plan had formed in her mind, and she wanted to see how it would work out. If it failed--well, she would learn something in the long run. "Would you be willing to shoot at any man who came within a certain area of the castle wall?"   
  
"Yes, sir," he sighed, giving a quick salute.  
  
"Good. Await further orders, then." Kel gestured to Sacherell. "Come along, Wellam. We have to meet the Baron on the courts." As they left the room, she tried to ignore the amuse expressions on the knights' faces. //It wouldn't be fun and games if their futures were on the line,// she thought with an internal scowl. //But they'll see. This plan will succeed. We'll have our fight, and we'll have the palace at the end of the day.//  
  
  
To be continued 


	5. The Eve of the Battle

Well, I read Squire several weeks ago, and it made me wonder about continuing this fic. I've decided to go ahead and finish as planned, but utilize some of the new characters from the book. :) There will be some similarities, and many differences, so think of it as an Alternate-Universe kind of thing, if you will. Also, I'm going to be on vacation without computer access for the next three weeks, so there will be no updates. (grr) However, I do most of my writing by hand initially, so I just *might* be able to work lots on the darn thing! (yay!)  
A special thank you to those who've left feedback for this fic. Being new to the genre of non-anime fanfiction, I have to say that the feedback has really kept me going. I have some great readers out there who make me very happy! Goddess Bless every one of you!  
  
Tortall and all of its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her (indirect) permission.  
  
// - denotes thoughts   
  
The Squire Years   
Chapter 5: The Eve of the Battle   
  
George Copper was as perplexed as they were over Joren's political tactics. "You mean t' tell me that he's promotin' peace in a battle simulation?" he asked incredulously.  
  
Kel nodded. "It doesn't make any sense to me. What could Joren gain by immobilizing us?"  
  
Then it dawned on her, as well as George and the others. She dropped her head in her hands. "Gods curse it--he would've won! He successfully wins the simulation if no one takes the palace. And if he knocks me out of the fight with his fancy speeches about peace, he limits the chances of Cleon succeeding, whether Cleon listens to Joren or not."  
  
She felt Sir Sacherell's hand on her shoulder. "Don't feel badly, Kel. We all made the same mistake. I didn't realize the kid was that clever."  
  
The baron, however, found the whole thing humorous; he was laughing so hard that tears were forming in his eyes. "Bless me, Crooked God, if that isn't the sneakiest thing I've ever heard!"  
  
"Thank God we've decided to go against the agreed alliances and all that," Merric sighed, rolling his eyes.   
  
"What?" George asked sharply, suddenly losing his jovial expression.  
  
"We're bandits, thieves, hillmen, and renegades, sir. We don't have to necessarily follow our word," Yancen answered.  
  
The baron sighed, digging his knife into the top of the fence-post. "You lads always get the wrong impression of the Rogue," he whispered, more to himself than to the group. "Certainly renegades and bandits wouldn't have t' honor their word--but many do. I'll let you do what you want, but remember that once you betray someone's trust, you're on your own. They're never goin' t' trust you again." He lowered his voice and gestured for the group to come closer to him. "I'll let you in on a secret. Most o' you can tell that I'm not noble-born and bred. I was a commoner back in th' days before his Majesty was th' king, and I was in th' court of th' Rogue. I was th' leader. But things started goin' sour, and someone was tryin' to use my men against me and against th' crown. I was friends with th' prince-soon to be king--and I had t' weigh my life in th' Rogue against my friendship with Jon. Lookin' back, I don't regret what I did, but I don't feel good about turnin' in a fellow thief, either. It went against th' Thieves' Rules--especially for th' King of the' Thieves. After I did that, I knew that there was no way I'd be able t' show my face in th' lowever city again. Th' Gods spared me from th' fate I deserved, and I was pardoned 'cause my actions saved th' crown. Otherwise th' thieves and pickpockets and everyone else who knew what I'd done would've been free to kill me. Th' way of th' thieves isn't always based on lies and false agreements. We live by our wits--which is what you young 'uns need to be doing right now."  
  
Kel swallowed thickly, feeling more than insecure about her role as leader. Had she offended the baron? "I'm sorry, Sir, but it was the only way I could think of to keep the other two groups on their toes. I have made and agreement with our spy in the palace to get us in the war. And I'd like to eliminate Cleon's group as early as possible. I want to win the palace--I want us to win the simulation, even though the odds are against us. We have the smallest group, and we're the worst close-range fighters, but I think we can muster something if we tell lies to Cleon's group, and turn against them halfway through."  
  
George looked at her skeptically. "I never knew you t' be ambitious, Keladry of Mindelan. From everything I'd heard around the palace, you always seemed t' take it as it comes."  
  
Sacherell let out a hearty laugh. "Ah, George--if you'd seen her negotiate with the spy from Joren's group twenty minutes ago, you wouldn't change your mind a bit. This youngster is taking it as it comes, I'd say."  
  
Kel self-consciously adjusted her tunic. She wanted to be like the other boys. No one should be hearing about her either way, outside the practice courts. It was bad enough that she was singled out for being a girl--but did all the nobles have to know things about her personality and performance? //Neal would probably chastise me right now, telling me that I should be glad that I'm good enough to gain a reputation. But reputations aren't the real thing--people are going to judge me based on what they hear rather than what I show them.// With a sigh, Kel gazed dryly at the former King of Thieves. "Baron Cooper, I just want to prove to Lord Wyldon that we can manage ourselves in an offensive battle. Most of the groups I've worked with have been defensive. I want to prove that I can lead a charge, and that these squires can manage themselves well in combat. But before I can do that, we need to come up with a way to get ourselves entangled with Cleon's men."  
  
"Have you met your spy from the group?"  
  
Kel nodded. "They're planning to eliminate us at the end, if not before. I think they want to join forces in order to defeat Joren, then turn against us after we conquer the palace--or at least something along those lines."  
  
"Let's beat 'em at their own game," George said with a twisted grin. "Remember that we have th' advantage of knowing who their counselor is. I've always wondered if I could best m wife at anything! I know what tricks she's going to want to play."  
  
Prince Roald grinned at the baron. "She's going to use mages to their full ability--and she'll be heavy on the swords."  
  
Kel nodded. "Cleon's group has the most mages--Neal, Esmond, and Kieren ha Minch. But Neal isn't good for much other than healing. Even his light-power is weak in comparison to Esmond or Roald."  
  
Roald nodded. "He can cast basic light spells and he can manage some defensive circles, but he's not strong with traditional warcraft magic. Esmond, on the other hand, can manage blinding light. But I know some protection spells to fight against it." He flushed sheepishly. "We haven't been taught it yet, so I doubt he'll be prepared to work around it. As for Sir Kieren--well, I've only seen him use his magic for lighting fires and casting illusions."  
  
Sir Geoffrey chuckled. "Yes--he was my squire several years ago. He mainly uses his magic to cast illusions as he fights. Try to knock him out of the battle before it reaches short-range combat."  
  
"What about physical strength?" the baron asked. "Unless I'm misjudgin' my wife, I'd say she'll be heavy-handed with swords and staffs. How are they in those areas?"  
  
"There are excellent swordsmen among them. Cleon and Neal are the best among the squires--and Cleon always utilizes close-range combat in his plans because he's a strong wrestler and staff-fighter, too. But as a group, we're stronger on the staff." Kel was proud of her group's composition concerning staffs and long-range arms. They were the best with the lance, and had a variety of skills with the various pole arms Lord Wyldon had allowed in the simulation.  
  
"And how are on long-range techniques?" Conal asked.  
  
Yancen shrugged. "Equally matched on archers, but Kel and Faleron and I are the best tilters Wyldon's ever trained--I heard him say as much to the king."  
  
George grinned crookedly. "And don't forget ol' Sacherell here. He was th' best in his day. Drove m' lady crazy, if I remember correctly."  
  
Sacherell nodded curtly in thanks.  
  
"As for archers," Kel began thoughtfully," I wouldn't be so quick to say we're evenly matched. Sir Paxton and Sir Kieren are the best--and Neal is the best of all the squires, next to Joren."  
  
"But what of special arrows?" Conal asked, smiling wickedly. It was well known throughout Tortall that Conal of Mindelan was the best with specialized arrows. "Surprise works wonders in any attack--but even more so if you scare their mounts with whistling arrows."  
  
"That's a bit cruel for a mock-battle," George replied, frowning. "But we should consider their mounts." He turned to Kel with a sigh. "You're in charge, Squire Kel. What do you suggest we do by way of a battle plan?"  
  
  
to be continued... 


	6. A Whiff of War

Yay! A new chapter!! *pant, pant* Sorry it's so late... between the offline weeks in Puerto Rico and catching up at work, I've hardly had any time to write. (Gah!)  
  
To those who keep leaving such enticing and lovely feedback--thank you!! You're the fuel that keeps me going--especially since reading 'Squire.' To Lady Kithandra: the romance is coming, it's just a little slow 'cause I'm not sure exactly where I'm gonna go yet. (it'll be here soon, I promise!)  
  
Tortall and all of its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her (indirect) permission.  
  
// - denotes italics  
  
The Squire Years   
Chapter 6: A Whiff of War   
  
The next day, Kel's troop rode out at four in the morning. It was a fairly difficult trek, following the path of the river rather than the road, and several times Kel had to nudge Merric awake before he fell off of his mount. Kel found it odd to be leading the caravan instead of falling back to keep the other horses safe from Peachblossom's bite; but the large, ornery gelding cared little whether he was in the front or the rear, so long as no one gave him trouble.   
  
The knights were good company. Unlike the other squires, they were quite used to waking at all hours of the night in order to deal with an emergency spidren hunt or a centaur uprising. Sir Geoffrey was quick to share trail mix, and Sir Sacherell's mount was among the few who actually got along with Peachblossom. Crown and her flock were comfortable with the friendly knight as well, and a dusting of feathers were often seen on his shoulders and on his horse. Conal, of course, was always a handful; but he was remarkably well behaved under Kel's direction. She decided that a prankster like him would best be placed covering the traces of the party's passing.  
  
After an hour's ride they built their camp and set about protecting it. Kel assigned sentry duties as Roald traced steps around the area, clockwise and counter-, murmuring under his breath whilst dropping herbs and branches. Kel knew that with his protection spell, no one outside the circle would be able to clearly see the camp.  
  
Kel had placed Faleron on the first sentry duty, but quickly began to regret it. Faleron had asked to be placed in charge of the messenger pigeons as well as the horn used to sound for danger or attack. But what if he was the spy? Wouldn't that be a prime position for someone who wanted them to fail? Her uneasiness went away as quickly as it had come. She was just being overly sensitive; chances were best that she would never discover her spy, so it was useless to waste time thinking about it when there was work to be done.  
  
After camp was set up, they spent the morning reviewing strategies and preparing equipment. The arrowheads were blunt and covered with chalk, to mark an opponent with a splash of color when struck. Each person wore practice pads according to their positions in the battle plans. As a potential staff fighter, Kel padded her shoulders and torso, knowing that any opponent would go for her ribs or collarbone.  
  
The morning was quiet. Their only concern about an attack came from Cleon's group, but Roald assured them that everyone would know without a doubt if someone came into their camp, and Merric and Yancen had set up numerous twig-and-rock traps outside of Roald's ring. Around noon, after eating a lunch of bread, dried meat, nuts, and fruit, Kel decided to set her plan into action. She sent a messenger bird to Cleon's group, agreeing on an earlier--proposed battle plan. Then she gathered a small party--herself, Yancen, Sacherell, and Conal--and rode toward the palace.  
  
They were on patrol, she told them, to see what kind of action--or inaction--was going on in the other two sectors. Vague boundary lines had been established the evening before, when Lord Wyldon had given them post-dinner instructions.  
  
"These boundaries have been placed by your advisors and myself upon reviewing your battle plans," he had stated. "If you are retreating from an ill-planned invasion, consider yourself in your own friendly lands again. And if you venture beyond the lines, consider it a justifiable cause for war if you're on enemy ground."  
  
Now Kel intended to use that lecture to her advantage. Raoul had clear orders--she just had to make sure her group was close enough to be mistaken for having crossed the line without ever doing so.  
It was over fifteen minutes before the forest ended and the palace wall came into view; the entrance from which her clan left that morning wasn't even visible from her current angle, they had traveled so far within the Royal Forest. But with the spyglass Sacherell was carrying, she could see two sentries on the parapets of the fortified wall. She made her way to the forest's edge, motioning for the others to follow her lead.  
  
"Kel," Yancen hissed. "If we go ten yards out of these woods, we start the war."  
  
"I want a better view," she answered calmly, urging Peachblossom forward.  
  
Sir Sacherell gave Yancen a warning look. "You're lucky that Squire Keladry values the input of her troops; I can name several captains who would punish you for such doubt." His severe tone caused Yancen to flush and his head bowed slightly.  
  
Kel thought it was a little harsh--especially since Yancen already had a knight master and was a seasoned squire who was following her own instructions-but she said nothing. She was distracted by the movement on the wall.  
  
When the party had stepped no more than five feet into the field, an arrow whizzed by Kel's head, grazing her cheek and imbedding itself into the tree at her back.  
  
Yancen sputtered angrily but no words formed. Conal, instead, took up the tall boy's argument. "Kel, are you mad? You just got us into a war without any allies!"  
  
She wiped the blood off of her face with the back of her hand and turned to him. Grinning wryly and gesturing to the area around them, she spoke with a calm but commanding voice. "We're hardly two yards from the woods. The palace sentry's mistake is ground for my declaration of war--and gives us room to plead to Cleon on the terms of the alliance." Her gaze went back to the palace wall, over a hundred yards away. Soldiers were gathering, looking at her group.  
  
Dismounting, Kel unsheathed her sword and suck it into the ground, marking their spot for precision.  
  
"Take this, too," Conal said, pulling a piece of cloth from one of his packs. It was a blue and cream banner with the Mindelan crest--the banner he used during tournaments. Kel draped it over her sword, amused by her brother's flair for the dramatic.  
  
"Back to the camp," Kel said with a small smile. "We have to send messages to the other factions." She mounted and led the group back toward their base.  
  
Conal and Sacherell fell back as they rode, leaving Yancen the privacy to apologize to Kel. "So this was planned all along? I'm sorry I doubted you, but why didn't you tell us the plan? And just who is the spy in Joren's group that shot at you?"  
  
"I was worried about spies," she explained. "That's why I didn't tell everyone the plan. I figured that with as few people in on it as possible, the chances of it leaking back to Joren or Cleon were lessened. Only Sir Sacherell and I knew-and Lord Raoul. He's our spy."  
  
Yancen paused, contemplating for a moment. "So this was all just your trick to get us into the war with the best advantage?"   
  
Kel nodded.  
  
"But what will happen to your spy? Id he plays innocent, he'll get in loads of trouble with Joren; if he reveals himself, it becomes clear that the war was an act of /our/ aggression."  
  
Kel nodded again. The thought had occurred to her. "Lord Raoul is a seasoned warrior. Even if he makes a mistake, Joren will trust him more than the squires in his group. He is more than capable of taking care of himself. If we can utilize him again, that would be wonderful. But we can't count on him any longer."  
  
  
"So are we at war now?" Merric asked when they explained the situation to everyone back at the camp.  
  
"Not formally," Kel answered. "I need to meet with Cleon, then Joren. War challenges and declarations have to go through before the battle; that's why Lord Wyldon told us to prepare enough for three days." She scribbled notes onto scrolls and put them in the miniature canisters, ready to be tied to the pigeons' feet and flown to both parties once Roald gave the spell. Normally magic wasn't needed for messenger birds, but her group's were only trained to go to the palace--not to the king's hunting lodge, where Cleon's group was based.  
  
"So now we wait," Yancen scowled.  
  
"War isn't something that's over and done with in a moment," Sir Geoffrey said calmly. "There are weeks and weeks of waiting in camps, wondering when the king will give you the go-ahead. Armies have to have time to plan battles. Even minor skirmishes can involve days of waiting for the other army to cross your path--and the closer you are to the beginning of a war, the worse the wait will be."  
Kel enjoyed hearing the knight's cool wisdom. Working with Geoffrey and Sacherell--and even Conal--was really a treat for her. She and the others took time to polish their weapons and shields while the three large knights shared tales of various scuffles in their own experiences--everything from fighting Scanrans in the Immortals War to preparing weapons as squires during the Tusaine War. Kel loved the stories--especially when there was a lesson to be learned.  
  
Early in the evening, while they were eating their makeshift dinner, two messenger pigeons arrived in the camp. One, from the palace, was Joren's agreement for a parlay the next morning. The other was from Cleon, and announced that he would come to their camp at dusk with a small group of soldiers in order to investigate the matter personally.  
  
Kel was pleased with both results; clearly both of her opponents were not going to jump headlong into battle without first asking the necessary questions.  
  
  
To be continued... 


	7. Diplomatic Bindings

Oh, I know this is horribly long in coming, and I apologize profusely. (and hope you're still interested in reading!) I've no legitimate excuses, so I'm not going to clutter the page with them.   
  
Again, this takes place after "Page" and does not incorporate anything from "Squire" yet (if it ever will). Consider it an alternate ending.   
  
// - denotes thoughts  
  
Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her permission.  
  
The Squire Years  
Chapter Seven: Diplomatic Bindings  
  
"If you measure the distance," Faleron told Cleon," it's not even five feet into the field, while the boundary-"  
  
"Was ten," Cleon finished, placing his hand on the top of Kel's sword. He had brought two others with him to invesitgate: Sir Paxton of Nond and Neal.   
  
Neal walked over to Kel, grinning. "Mindelan banner, eh?" he asked, nodding toward the blue cloth still draped over her sword. "I never knew you to be such a romantic."  
  
Kel snorted and glanced over at him. "I'm not. Conal is the one who placed it there." She smiled slightly. "I've got to admit that I like it, though."  
  
He grabbed her by the shoulder in a half-embrace, laughing. "We'll make a sap out of you yet, Kel."  
  
She tried to control her fluttery stomach and her pounding heart; only the sound of Cleon clearing his throat gave her enough sense of purpose to tear her gaze from Neal's green eyes.   
  
"This seems pretty clear," Cleon said with a small scowl. "But there's one thing that's bothering me."  
  
"What's that?" Merric demanded.  
  
The big squire walked over to the tree where the arrow was still stuck. The arrowhead was imbedded deep into the bark. "I don't think this was a blunted arrow. I've never seen one go in so deep into a tree."  
  
The arrows they were using were supposed to be blunt and covered with dirt or chalk to clearly mark who was hit without barbing them. It took great amounts of strength and speed to pierce anything.  
  
"I can't believe I didn't notice that," Sacherell growled. "Who are the best archers?" His expression clearly told Kel that he was sure that this had not been Lord Raoul's doing.  
  
"I think Sir Jerel has won the last six tournaments this year," Conal replied. "He's the only one who's beaten me. And Raoul has always been great."  
  
Paxton nodded in agreement, but quickly added, "Don't forget Joren. I think he's the best archer in the realm, skill-wise. He probably lacks the strength of the older men, but he never ceases to impress me."  
  
Kel and Neal exchanged worried look. //This could be something that goes beyond play-war,// Kel thought. //Neal is the only one who truly understands how serious my situation with Joren is.// This was not good.  
  
"Do you think it was Joren?" Cleon asked softly, studying Kel with a thoughtful expression.  
  
Kel gulped. She didn't want to accuse now, and discover later that she had been wrong. She'd never done it before, and she didn't want to start now. "Who shot it doesn't matter," she said gruffly. "All I know is that it was an unprovoked act of aggression. Earlier I sent a message to Joren asking him to meet me later tonight, instead of tomorrow. Are you going to back me, Cleon of Kennan, and remain true to our agreement?"  
  
He nodded. "Most certainly, pearl of my heart." His serious expression was replaced with a ludicrous grin. "Shall I wear your colors in battle and carry a lock of hair at my breast?"  
  
Kel snorted. "You already wear my colors, buffoon," she said, gesturing to his blue and cream ensemble. She motioned for her men to go back to the camp. "Would you speak to Joren this way?" she asked Cleon.  
  
He smirked. "Maybe if he had those hazel eyes. But I think Joren's a little too pretty for my tastes. I like a girl who's more down to earth."  
  
Kel rolled her eyes, thinking that he'd missed the point entirely. "Come back to our camp and we'll feed you," she sighed, leading her allies back into the woods.  
  
*****  
  
Later that night Kel found herself out in the field again, with Cleon at her side, waiting for Joren. They'd decided to meet him along, hoping to prevent any threats Joren could perceive at meeting an army of angry knights and squires.  
  
"Gods, it's cold out here!" Cleon cursed through clenched teeth. His arms were wrapped around him tightly in an attempt to protect him from the breeze.  
  
Kel grinned. Living in the Yamani Islands prepared her well for even the worst Tortallan weather. Although it was barely autumn, the wind was cold. But Kel didn't let it get the better of her. She would have worse things to deal with over the next few days.  
  
She heard the stamping of hoofbeats and turned Peachblossom toward the palace. Three riders were heading their way-Joren and two large fellows, one so large it could be none other than Lord Raoul.  
  
//Thank Mithros he wasn't detected as my spy,// Kel thought as they approached. The other rider pulled out a glass globe and filled it with the peach light of his Gift. It was Sir Nualt.  
  
Joren's eyes looked cold as he stared at Cleon and Kel. "So where is this arrow you were supposedly nearly struck with?" he asked nastily.   
  
"Supposedly?" Kel asked, her voice matching his in iciness. "The scratch on my cheek should show you how close it was." She gestured to the tree behind them. Joren dismounted and studied it carefully. "My sword marks where I stood when it happened. I was clearly out of range."   
  
Joren crossed over to her and peered at her in the dim light, studying her face. Finally he shrugged. "A blunted arrow couldn't scratch you like that. And it certainly wouldn't end up in the tree. This clearly wasn't my group's doing."  
  
Cleon's face turned red with anger. "Oh, come off it, Joren! Who else would shoot her?"  
  
Joren gave an icy smile. "She has spies. She probably set this whole thing up to make sure she was portrayed as an innocent victim. You know how conniving women are."  
  
Kel glared, but fought her urge to cut Joren down then and there. "And what did you do with my spy, pray tell?"  
  
"Exactly what any decent leader would do," he hissed. "We rooted him out and placed him under arrest!"  
  
Kel could barely make out the small smile on Raoul's face. "Lies and treachery are often valid causes for warfare, Joren of Stone Mountain. I suggest you own up to your attack on my troops without tarnishing my reputation any further."  
  
Raoul coughed and Joren flushed at Kel's statement. A moment of silence passed over the group as Joren tried to digest her words.  
  
Cleon looked at Kel as if she'd grown another head. "What does everybody else know that I don't?" he demanded, perplexed.  
  
Lord Raoul urged his mount forward, siding with Cleon and Kel. "Squire Cleon, what you have not been told is that I am the spy in Squire Keladry's group. Thus, it is impossible for Joren to be telling the truth about the 'spy' who was imprisoned." He glared menacingly at Joren. "Furthermore, it would be interesting to note that Stoen Moutnain was up on the parapets during the time she was targeted."  
  
Joren looked like someone had slapped him. His face was pale and his eyes were furious.  
  
Kel was angered at his rage. He made this bed-he could damn well sleep in it! "Do you want to start this battle now, or would you prefer a chance to flee behind the palace walls?" she asked, allowing herself to match him in snide-ness for once.  
  
He lunged, yanking out his sword. He very well could have run her through, hadSir Nualt not grabbed him commander's sword arm, or if Cleon hadn't suddenly placed himself between them.  
  
"We strike at dawn," Cleon whispered to her, eyeing Joren warily. "Leave him to fester."  
  
Kel nodded mutely. Her hands were beginning to shake. //Watashi no bakayero//, she chided herself in Yamani. //You know better than to insult a hotheaded fighter without even putting your hand on your dagger.// She watch Nualt and Joren ride away, Joren loudly cursing Lord Raoul and Kel. Darkness again fell over them.  
  
Raoul shrugged. "I packed my tent," he said jovially. "I guessed something like this would happen." He paused, suddenly looking serious and alert. After a moment of silence, he bellowed into the night. "Who's out there?!"  
  
Two figures on foot stepped out into the clearing. Kel couldn't make anything out, except their relative sizes. But the smaller of the two was a mage, proven by the purple light that suddenly illuminated the night.   
  
Kel gulped. It was Lady Alanna and George Cooper.  
  
"Spying?" Raoul asked lazily.  
  
Alanna looked indignant. "We were looking for our commanders and stumbled across a War Council."  
  
George grinned. "We weren't about t' interrupt such an interestin' meeting, either."  
  
Kel sighed. She was too tired to feel excited about having a chance to work with the Lioness. "I guess it's time to discuss battle plans, Cleon. I'll go tell my men to head over to the lodge." She swooped down to retrieve her sword and banner before heading off into the woods.  
  
To be continued... 


	8. The Benefits of Espionage

Yeesh--I'm glad this battle "notional scenario" is nearly over. I'm afraid I didn't know what I was getting into when I started this thing. But rest assured, palace life will return to usual, which means Kel will get her knight-master soon, and perhaps some attention from the boys. *grin*  
  
Author's note: Special thanks goes out to a friend from my history classes. If it weren't for his Naval ROTC training, I'd have no idea what the best way to storm a castle is. (His first choice: "bribe the gatekeeper.") Another thank you goes to my Modern European Military History professor, John Guilmartin. He taught me lots about trench warfare and defense that I could apply to castle/fortification defense.   
  
Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her indirect permission.  
  
// - denotes thoughts   
  
  
The Squire Years  
Chapter Eight: The Benefits of Espionage  
  
Kel found herself perched high in a tree the next morning, examining the palace walls through her spy-glass. Whatever happened today, she was certain it wouldn't go as perfectly as planned. Any number of things could occur. Joren had strong fighters-some of the best archers in the realm. They would probably remain on the castle walls as long as possible. Joren had been on the parapets all morning, occasionally pacing, usually sitting in what Kel could only assume was his favorite place--it was the same perch he'd been on a year before, when she'd gone to the wall to sketch.  
  
She shook the memory from her head. She couldn't spend her morning analyzing that strange conversation for the hundredth time. She had more important things to consider. She and Cleon had come up with a fairly solid plan of action the night before. Cleon would lead the offensive line of short-range fighters--swords, spears, staffs--while Kel would hang back with the others to manage the defensive aspects of the battle. Her archers were prepared to cover the front lines.  
  
Given the circumstances of the war declarations, Kel offered her men as frontline fighters. Raoul, Geoffrey, Sacherell, and Faleron joined Cleon and his group of swordsmen: Imrah, Paxton, Inness, and Balduin. Kel was a little uncomfortable giving up three of her knights, but she had faith that her rear flank would be able to cover them.   
  
"Remember," Cleon was telling the swordsmen below, "retreat back into the woods if you hear Faleron's horn call."  
  
Alanna cuffed Faleron almost affectionately. "And don't you put your lips to that thing until your commander says so. Or if he falls in battle and no one steps up. Or if you see a sneak attack from the enemy."  
  
Kel wasn't really sure _what_ she'd expected from the Lioness, but joking around hadn't been part of it, she was sure. In all her years as a page, no one had ever mentioned anything more than Lady Alanna's temper.  
  
"Have you got your spears, lances, bows, quivers, and everything else prepared?" she finally asked her men. They cheered the affirmative and began their warm-up exercises while Kel turned back to the palace. There were still only two archers on the wall, including Joren, one person at the portcullis, and no one anywhere else.   
  
"We're going to have to storm the castle like we thought," Kel called out to Cleon and Alanna, gingerly climbing down the tree. She was no longer afraid of heights, thanks to Balor's Needle, but she didn't think falling from a tree would do much to sustain her recovery.  
  
"Are we ready, men?" she asked, noting that Faleron was looking a little ill.  
  
"Mindelan!!!" the squires shouted back, nervous energy spilling out. Even Faleron seemed to benefit from their confidence, and he quickly mounted, unsheathed his sword, and joined at Cleon's side.  
  
They began their march forth and Inness came to Kel's side. "You know that 'Mindelan' battlecry made Cleon's ears turn red. I think he might feel that you're taking over his group. Keep your back covered."  
  
Kel nodded curtly and watched her brother ride off to join the front rank. She had to remember that Cleon was _not_ in her group. He wanted his colors flying above the castle wall as much as she did.  
  
*****  
  
They weren't even through the forest when disaster struck. Kel was in a meditative state, concentrating on the strength she would need to harness in order to take the castle, when she glanced through the file of soldiers. Faleron caught her eye. He was peering into the woods as he rode, his hand hesitantly reaching to the hunting horn at his side.  
  
Kel realized too late--when he put the horn to his lips--that he was Joren's spy. "Off your mounts!" she bellowed simultaneously with the horn's low moan.  
  
As soon as she dropped, arrows flew over her head. Several men, including the great Raoul of Goldenlake and Mallory's Peak, were struck.  
  
"Retreat!" Kel hollered, knowing that their state of confusion was an advantage for the opposition. "All unharmed men, RETREAT!" Mounting quickly and riding low in the saddle, Kel and Peachblossom sped furiously back to the camp, where they would at least be protected by Roald's magic. Kel was glad to hear a decent amount of hoof-beats behind her.  
  
When she reached the camp several minutes later, she was relieved to see that most of the defensive line had been spared. Only Garvey had not returned with the group.   
  
But the group of swordsmen had been picked clean. OF the nine who made up the group initially, only Imrah and Sacherell returned. Kel assumed that Faleron had joined the opposing forces.  
  
"Where is Cleon?" Kel asked the knights.  
  
Sacherell gestured uselessly. "He took out Squire Zahir, but by the time I looked back he had been covered with chalk, like the others." He shook his head. "How did Faleron manage to keep it hidden so well?"   
  
Kel stood in silence, her mind moving rapidly. Finally she turned to Cleon's remaining men--Kieren, Imrah, Neal, and Esmond. "Your leader and most of your army has been killed. Would you like to leave us and sue for peace, or find a new leader among you and continue the fight?"  
  
The two knights and squires exchanged glances.  
  
"Actually," Esmond began, "we would like to be assimilated into your group. _You_ can lead us in our battle of revenge."  
  
Neal shrugged at Kel's questioning look. "What have we got to lose?"  
  
Kel nodded. "Your assistance would be appreciated," she said formally. Then she raised her voice to address the entire group. "We have to come up with a new plan altogether, or they'll keep ambushing us."  
  
She pulled her writing supplies from her pack and handed them to Neal. "I want you to write to Joren. Ask him to meet me tomorrow morning for a peace conference. Make it as flowery as you can."  
  
Sacherell grinned at Kel.   
  
She met his eye and smiled back, mustering confidence in her leading abilities. "But before any truce or cease fire is called, while Joren is caught off-guard, we'll sneak into the castle at night."  
  
"How are we going to manage that?" Conal asked skeptically.  
  
"Easier than Kel thought," Esmond piped up. "We have a spy in Joren's camp." He pulled a small slip of paper from his breeches. "Yesterday we got this from a carrier pidgeon."  
  
Kel took the note and read it quickly. It was from Seaver, who had written down his shifts on watch--on the parapets as well as at the gates. Kel noted that his gate-keeping watch began at ten that evening.  
  
"This is going to be easier than I thought."  
  
*****  
  
At ten-thirty the group made its way over the open field. They had left horses and large weapons back at the camp, under the protection of the Baron. Instead of armor and shields, they were dressed simply--carrying daggers, pole-arms, and occasional swords and bows. They looked more like a hunting party than an army.  
  
But they didn't have to worry about being seen. Kieren and Roald had placed spells on them: Roald's Gift silenced their movements while Keiren's cast the illusion that no one was there, and only a gentle breeze played over the grassy field.  
  
Kel was nervous, but more confident than she had felt throughout the entire simulation. //This is it,// she thought. //We can easily win with this battle.//  
  
When they reached the castle walls, they flattened themselves against it, invisible to the sentries above, spells or no. The dark yellow shimmer of Keiren's Gift surrounding the group dissipated, followed by the inner glaw of Roald's midnight blue. Kel motioned for Esmond to step forward; together they approached Seaver.  
  
"What's she doing with you?" he asked Esmond, eyes wide.  
  
"Cleon's out," Kel explained. "His remaining fighters turned to my group, so I will understand completely if you choose to refuse to aid us."  
  
Seaver gulped and glances at Esmond. Kel had a feeling that he was trying to figure his odds, knowing they were well-armed. Finally he shrugged. "I guess this teaches Joren that it's better to be a just leader." He symbolically handed Esmond his hunting horn and stepped aside. "Go right in. Joren should be on watch on the walls."  
  
Kel saluted curtly. "Thank you," she said gruffly. "I didn't want to have to kill you." Motioning to her men, she led the way into the palace yard.  
  
Seaver smiled. "I'm glad to give the palace to you, Kel. I'd rather do that than give it to Cleon-or fight for Joren."  
  
"That's a nice compliment," Kel acknowledged. "If you want to join us, you may-but I'm not asking any more of you if you're uncomfortable with that." Motioning to her men, she led the way into the palace yard.  
  
"Remember, hide in the shadows and grab them before they can see you," Kel reminded them as she crept toward the inner staircase of the wall. "Mithros guide me, I'm off to capture Joren."  
  
to be continued... 


	9. Integrity (or lack-thereof)

Author's Note: Thank God, the battle ends in this chapter! Now I can let the fun stuff begin: the Yamani court, character development, romance, squire-hood, etc. Some stuff will be similar to Tammy's--for example, I won't describe Progressives and Conservatives as "traditionalist" and "non-traditionalist," as I did in Chapter One (before I read Squire). Keep reviewing and I'll have the motivation to keep writing; you guys have been wonderfully supportive, and I'm really grateful.   
  
As always, the characters and inhabitants of Tortall belong to Tamora Pierce and are used with her indirect permission.  
  
// - denotes thoughts  
  
  
The Squire Years  
Chapter Nine: Integrity (or lack-thereof)  
  
Kel trotted up the stairs, running her left hand along the wall to keep her balance. In her right hand she carried her practice glaive, ready to weild. At the top of the staircase she paused, peering through the dimness in hopes of spotting Joren.  
  
There were only three torches lit along the walkway and a sentry was looking over the wall. Kel had been undetected.  
  
She crept over, trying to figure out who he was. He was much too large to be one of her fellow squires. His shoulders were broader than Sir Nualt, so she guessed it was Sir Jerel.  
  
She pressed her chalk-covered glaive to his back. "Drop the bow," she hissed. "You're dead, Sir Jerel."  
  
He gave a wry grin as he looked at her over his shoulder. "Well done, Squire Keladry. I see that Lord Wyldon as not exaggerated about your skills."  
  
"Thank you," Kel said, unsure of what else to say. She saluted quickly and headed along the walkway.  
  
The next sentry post was empty. In their last Strategy and Tactics lecture, Lord Wyldon had stressed that defense lines in castles or forts, or even camps at the tops of hills, didn't need an excessive amount of archers, as long as they had a clear view and good range. //So Joren's still a fairly good student,// Kell thought, //even if he doesn't care for the Code of Chivalry.//  
  
At the next post she saw Joren. He was sitting on a merlon, book in hand. His bow was on the floor--clearly he had not been expecting an attack. His piercing blue eyes flicked up from his book as Kel stepped out of the shadows.  
  
"I deserve some explanations," Kel said forcefully, weilding her glaive.  
  
"YOU deserve?" Joren asked incredulously. "What, Keladry, do you deserve other than punishment for defying the Gods and acting like something you're not?" He set his book aside and unsheathed his sword.  
  
Kel fought to keep her face Yamani-smooth. "Is that why you tried to kill me with that arrow? Because I've defied the Gods?" She took a step closer to him. "Then why did it not strike me dead, if that's what the Gods wish?"  
  
"Don't try to play logic games with me," Joren snapped. "You've been spending too much time with that idiot scholar."  
  
Kel bristled at the unfair description of Neal. "And you've been spending too much time with rigid, conservative knights who are so wrapped up in tradition that they refuse to acknowledge that women are capable of protecting the realm!"  
  
Joren smiled with mock sweetness. "Did I strike a nerve? I can't recall you ever having yelled before." He brought his sword up quickly in a crescent-shaped arc. Kel was lucky to block it with her glaive. Joren scowled fiercely. "You're going to die, bitch."  
  
Kel pushed back with all her strength, knocking Joren too the floor. She stood over him, glaive blade resting on his chest. His tunic was now marked with chalk, but Kel could hardly believe it. //How could he give in so easily?//  
  
Before she could throw a final insult his way, he knocked her legs out from under her. Kel found herself on the ground, and Joren scrambled to his knees, crouching above her. Her glaive had been knocked aside and the cold blade of Joren's sword was flat against her neck.  
  
"Dishonorable wench," he growled, leaning low over her. His eyes flashed angrily as he pressed his sword and his body against her. She could feel blood trickling down the side of her neck.  
  
Kel's eyes grew wide with fear. There was no telling what her was capable of doing. His breath was hot against on her cheeks but his eyes were cold and icy. "You're as worthless as a whore. You're a liability in battle because all the men will want to bed you rather than fight. They'll protect you instead of the realm because they'll fall under your spell, the same way those Progressive knights have with the Champion."  
  
Kel pushed futily against him, but her strength was no match for Joren's quiet rage. "Get off of me, Joren," she hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about!"  
  
Joren let out a low hiss. "Don't I?" With a disgusted sneer, he lowered his mouth to hers in a forceful kiss. Kel continued to press against him to no avail. Finally she bit down on his lower lip as hard as she could. Joren yanked back away from her, holding his hand to his bleeding mouth. "You bitch!"  
  
"Get off of her, you miserable cur!" Kel heard Neal shout from the direction of the stairs. Had he followed her? She was alarmed to know that she hadn't noticed his footsteps behind her.  
  
Neal launched himself across the walkway, attacking Joren with a wide swing of his sword. Joren moved quickly to defend, slicing Kel's skin further. He took no notice of Kel's bleeding neck, his fierce eyes locked on Neal as they dueled.  
  
Kel felt someone lift her into an upright position and place her a piece of cloth along her neck.   
  
"If you sit up and hold this handkerchief tight you should be okay." Conal's voice was reassuring and calming. Kel was a little grateful that it was Conal helping her, rather than one of the more intimidating knights.  
  
Kel said nothing, holding her brother's handkerchief against the wound as she watched Neal and Joren fight. Joren was good--he'd always been one of the better fighters--but Neal had a few years of experience. He was fast. Kel feared, however, that Joren's fury would be great enough to give him the duel.  
  
"Help him," she urged Conal, who had not loosened his protective hold on her shoulders.  
  
He shook his head sternly. "It will be over soon. We sent Sacherell to locate Wyldon. He's about somewhere, overseeing the rest of the battle. I volunteered to look after you, Kelly."  
  
Kel winced at the childhood nickname. "What will happen now?"  
  
Conal shrugged noncomitally. "You know what mother says. 'Ichigo ichie.'"  
  
Kel nodded. 'Live in the moment'--the Yamani phrase usually associated with the art of tea. But it meant so much more than the translation allowed--it meant to enjoy the fullness of life without the worries of what the next moment would bring.  
  
Kel heard Lord Wyldon's familiar stomp along the walkway just as Neal knocked Joren's sword out of his hand. "Give up," Neal said darkly.  
  
Joren looked at Neal, his eyes full of rage. "What a waste of talent you are, fighting to defend everything she is." He spat at Neal before pushing past him.  
  
"Stop right there, Joren of Stone Mountain." Wyldon's voice was lower and colder than Kel had ever heard it before. He appeared out of the darkness with Sirs Sacherell and Paxton. Kel found a bit of happiness at the site of Jump trailing behind the Training Master; she had missed him during the scenario. "You're coming back to my office quarters."  
  
The training master glanced at the chalk smeared across Joren's chest and then looked at Kel, nodding slightly. "Well done, Mindelan. And for the love of Mithros--Queenscove! Start healing!" With a sharp turn he walked backed toward the staircase. Paxton followed, one hand tightly gripping Joren's arm.  
  
Neal scurried over, removing Kel's hand from the wound. "The wound isn't too bad, but the bleeding hasn't stopped. I can at least take some of the pain away before you go to the healer's to have it cleaned and mended, though."  
  
Kel felt the coolness of Neal's Gift entering her body. It was soothing and it made her drowsy. Her eyes drooped and her mind slipped into silly, lucid dreams about Neal.  
  
"Someone should take her to my father," she vaguely heard him say. There was a shuffle of sounds and Kel felt herself being lifted into someone's arms. There was a slight brush against her forehead--a kiss? "Be careful," she heard Neal say. "She's pretty weak from the healing."  
  
In her dreamy state Kel wondered if the kiss had been from Neal. She sighed happily, feeling silly and girlish--but content.  
  
*****  
  
When Kel woke up the next morning, she was in the infirmary. Healers shuffled about, helping the few patients sharing her ward: a page who had broken his wrist in hand-to-hand combat, a sentry guard with a cough, a Mithran priest with a headache. One of the healers came over to Kel to talk to her about her injury.  
  
"You have guests," Duke Baird greeted her ten minutes later, guiding a row of squired to her cot. "They've been waiting for you to wake up."  
  
Kel sat up slowly, still feeling light-headed from the healing. In addition to stitching her neck, the healers had also fixed up all of her other bumps and scratches from her training. Merric, Neal, Cleon, and Roald approached her, expressions of relief on their faces.   
  
"You're not in class?" Kel asked, confused.  
  
Cleon shook his head. "We're just supposed to draw up detailed reports of the events so we can study them in Tactics and Strategy class. Lord Wyldon says he'll address the scenario in tomorrow's lessons."  
  
"He's waiting for you to get better," Roald chimed in. "Well, that and Joren finishing off his punishment work."  
  
Merric snorted. "Hard labor in the armory--all day," he answered Kel's unspoken question. "It was Sir Paxton's decision, and he's as much said that Joren isn't going to get off easy for breaking the rules."  
  
Neal sat on the end of the bed, inspecting Kel professionally. "You're feeling better, though, aren't you?"  
  
Kel nodded, smiling. "I was told that a young mage was pestering these healers all night, making sure I was all right."  
  
Neal ducked his head as the others laughed.   
  
Roald pulled out a glossy white stone attached to a chain around his neck. "This charm shows me magic if I want to see it. Will I see a dark green aura around our Kel to show that you've been stuffing her full of your Gift?" he asked Neal.  
  
"Go ahead and see," Neal sniffed indignantly. "Your token will show you nothing, because my father's Gift is nearly identical."  
  
Duke Baird, who happened to be helping a patient in the next bed, grinned wryly at the group of squires. "Rest assured, your Highness, that Keladry has been given as much of Neal's magic as my own."  
  
"Alas," Neal sighed dramatically. "A knife in the back from the man who gave me life, I'm stricken to the core."  
  
"But where did you get this token?" Duke Baird inquired, changing the subject. "I've only seen one of its kind before."  
  
Road's eyes grew wide and his face became flushed. "It was a present," he murmured.  
  
Cleon, sensing his friend's embarrassment and discomfort, changed the topic of conversation. "So, Kel-darling, tell us what happened atop the wall last night. The way Queenscove tells it, he saved you from a long, suffering death at the hands of Joren, an ogre, and sixty Scanran bandits."  
  
Kel arched one eyebrow at Neal.  
  
"I only said that I came to your aid, and possibly saved you form a fate worse than death," Neal defended himself.  
  
//A fate worse than death, indeed,// Kel thought, remembering Joren's sneer and his kiss. She swallowed thickly, looking at the overprotective circle of squires around her bed. "No," she said in a low voice. "He wouldn't have done anything that awful. //Why are you defending him?// the reasonable part of her mind questioned. //Why do you still insist that there has to be a shred of decency in him when he's proven otherwise so many times?//  
  
Neal's expression seemed to mirror her thoughts.  
  
"But it was terrifying, and I still have to thank you," she said softly, taking Neal's hand and squeezing it. "So, thank you, Squire Nealan, for your first heroic deed."  
  
She won a smile from him, finally, and laughter from the other squires.   
  
Neal moved closer to her. "Forgive me, everyone," he said to the other three, "but I'm about to treat Kel like a girl." Turning back to her, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Mithros, was I glad that I got there in time."  
  
Kel flushed, hoping Neal couldn't feel her racing pulse. Her eyes shifted to the other squires and she saw Cleon staring oddly at her.  
  
"Kel!" Owen burst into the infirmary, relieving Kel of her concerns about Cleon and Neal. He flung his arms around her, kneeling next to the bed. "I heard what happened and came down as soon as I could! Are you okay? Is Joren in trouble? Did you still take the palace? Did you win the whole thing?"  
  
Kel laughed and answered his questions, making room for him and the others to sit on the bed with her.  
  
*****  
  
The following morning Kel felt fully rested and refreshed, which could not be said for Joren, who was cross from his hours in the armory and the tongue-lashings from every direction. The knights who joined them on the practice courts did not speak to him, only to his knight-master. The squires were back in the social groups again, telling stories about their own campaigns. Kel noticed that Joren, who had disassociated from his old group of cronies, was left alone. For a fleeting moment she felt sorry for him. She had been happy to see Seaver, Esmond, Neal, and Cleon back at her breakfast table. She wondered if Joren even regretted the actions that had ostracized him.  
  
The knights and squires grew quiet as Lord Wyldon approached with the three advisors.   
  
"I'd like to commend you on a job well done," he said stiffly. "Your advisors told me they were highly impressed not only with your understanding and intelligence concerning strategy, but also with your adaptability. We were pleased with the cooperation among groups, and the way most of you," his eyes rested sternly on Joren, "held to the Honor Code, and removed yourself from the battle once you had been wounded.  
  
"Without your knowledge," he continued, "you were awarded points for your battle plans, camp behavior, and combat sportsmanship. Surviving members, successful tactics, and utilization of spies also affected your scores." He paused, looking over the class of squires. "In the third place, after totalling the points, we have the infiltrating group under Cleon of Kennan. Incomplete and ill-thought plans ruined the chances for this group to lay siege to the palace. However, their training routines were solid, behavior was impeccable, and they fought as well as they could, given the situation."  
  
Kel glanced at Cleon, who looked mortified to have led his group to a third-place finish. Kel felt a little guilty herself, since the "ill-thought plans" were partially hers.  
  
"In second place," Lord Wyldon announced, "we have the defensive group under Joren of Stone Mountain. Despite the poor sportsmanship of their leader, these soldiers and their spy practiced good sportsmanship, clean fighting, and overall excellent skill."  
  
Kel felt Neal clap her on the back. She couldn't believe that her group of knights and squires had earned the most points!  
  
"Renegade group," Lord Wyldon called over the murmurs and whispers. "You displayed positive reaction to adversity, coolness under fire, productive use of group members, and superior use of spies. While your strategies were not always excellent, you managed to keep a majority of your group in tact--and even added to your numbers by gaining the loyalty of your allies. You succeeded in the face of great odds, and for that you earned the most points."  
  
The squires cheered, and Kel noticed Sir Raoul whistling, two fingers in his mouth. Sir Sacherell sent her a King's Own signal that he'd taught her--the sign that meant "everything is all right."  
  
"You have earned the privilege of a Market Day this week," Lord Wyldon announced to Kel's group. "However, given that you were blessed with the misfortunes of others for all the good you did yourself, I would suggest that maybe you spend your time studying strategy."  
  
Neal snorted. "Leave it to the Stump to take away any joy you might have gained from this," he muttered.  
  
"Queenscove!" Wyldon barked.   
  
"Yes, sir?" Neal responded lazily.  
  
"You are making me regret that I am allowing you and Esmond to take off half a day of studies as well, for your participation in the final battle."  
  
Neal's jaw dropped. Kel was as shocked as her lanky friend. Even during their final years as pages, when Joren was no longer about and starting fights, Neal had been granted less free time than anyone else, due to his sharp tongue and argumentative ways. He'd rarely had a Market Day.  
  
Kel grinned and clasped his shoulder. They were going to have a better time in the city with Neal joining them.  
  
Lord Wyldon moved aside and the king stepped up to the semicircle of squires and knights.   
  
"You have worked hard and have given me hope. Not since my years as a squire have we had such a promising groups of young fighters. And this week you have proven to me--to all of us--that you are capable of utilizing the concepts that you learn off of the practice courts as well. I look forward to what this year will bring, and how much more you will learn from your knight-masters."  
  
Kel felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. She still had no knight-master, and she wasn't sure how long her wait would be. //Why were the Knights being so slow?// she wondered. //Will they be more likely to choose me, now that I've proven myself in a simulation battle? Will Sir Sacherell or Sir Geoffrey stand up for me, at least?//  
  
She had no time for more pondering. Practice was beginning.  
  
to be continued... 


	10. In the City

Romance? Perhaps now... let it be known that I'm not going to go mushy-gushy with the romance. Kel isn't really a romantic-minded person, and she's only fourteen at this point, so it will be a while before she can feel any kind of swoony, all-consuming love. (she's so practical!)  
  
Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her (indirect) permission.  
  
// - denotes thoughts  
  
The Squire Years  
Chapter Ten: In the City  
  
After spending the morning with her parents and sisters in Corus, Kel made her way to the Temple District, where she had plans to meet the others. They were expected to be in the palace in time for supper, so they only had six hours to shop and frolic.   
  
Merric was waiting at the fountain, reading an almanac intently.  
  
"Am I forgetting an assignment?" Kel asked as she approached, gesturing to the book. Merric flushed and shook his head.  
  
"The drought this past summer--my father's farmlands were affected pretty badly, so I'm trying to help out as much as I can from afar." Merric gestured for Kel to sit down next to him. "And how has your morning been?"  
  
She shrugged. "It's always nice to talk to my parents, though they're both distracted. They have to make court appearances this week for the introduction of the Yamani delegation."  
  
Merric closed his books and sighed. "You know, Mindelan and Hollyrose aren't that far from each other geographically, but sometimes I think we're from different countries."  
  
Kel nodded. "Well, I've spent as much time in the Yamanis as I have here in Tortall. The only difference between us is that I'm from a diplomatic family that recently earned its rank, while yours is more of the traditional Tortallan noble family. Both commendable in different ways."  
  
"And that's the only difference between us?" Merric smirked, looking her over skeptically. "I don't recall Cleon ever referring to me as a 'great sunrise of a girl' before."  
  
Kel snorted. "True. I suppose the other difference is that you don't have as many people poking fun at you!"   
  
Merric sneaked a look at her from the corner of his eye. "If you choose to see it that way."  
  
Just then Neal approached with Esmond from the direction of the palace. They were both running, wide smiles on their faces.  
  
"You won't believe what happened!" Esmond shouted.   
  
Kel and Merric exchanged bewildered looks. It was odd to see Esmond so vivacious.  
  
"He has been chosen," Neal announced ominously. "And that is why we are a good ten minutes late."  
  
"Which knight?" Kel asked enviously.  
  
Esmond grinned. "Your brother Conal. He says it's because my archery is appalling and a ferret could outwit me--but he could give me sixty lashes and I'd still be thrilled. I'm just glad to be chosen by a Progressive."  
  
Kel nodded. //I'd be glad to be chosen at all.// She hoped that there would be one or two Progressives left over by the time she was considered, otherwise she'd end up as Sir Gareth's ink-fetcher. "Don't worry about Conal," she told her friend, shaking her disturbing thoughts out of her head. "He torments the people he likes, so take it as a compliment."  
  
"Well, what do we want to do today?" Esmond asked. "We have hours to waste, and a city to entertain us."  
  
"The bookshop?" Neal suggested. His request was met with groans.  
  
"We should do that last, since you'll undoubtedly browse for hours," Kel sighed.  
  
"I'd like to price a pair of new boots, if we can stop at the tanner's," Merric piped up.  
  
"It would be nice to go to the Raven Armory," Neal said. "I might be able to afford a dagger." He pulled a handful of gold coins out of the purse hanging from his belt as they walked toward the market.  
  
"You should put that away," Kel urged. "You're tempting pick-pockets."  
  
Neal groaned. "You're forgetting that I was raised in the city. Besides-what would be the point of becoming a knight if a thief could get the better of me?"  
  
Esmond shrugged. "Some thieves are clever enough to bring down kings--or have you never heard of the Coronation Day Catastrophe?"  
  
"Of course I have," Neal snapped. "But that particular thief had the support of corrupt nobles and a nefarious sorcerer."  
  
Kel and Merric glanced at each other, simultaneously mouthing "Nefarious?"  
  
"And before you numbskulls ask, 'nefarious' means wicked or evil," Neal explained.  
  
They finally agreed to go first to the tanners, then to a sweet shop, and finally to the Raven Armory.   
  
The armory was large--one of the larger shops on the street, even without including the massive workrooms behind the main store. Swords of various lengths and styles hung on one wall, opposite the pole arms Kel was instantly drawn to. She browsed as Neal and Merric haggled over daggers and hunting knives, and Esmond asked about smithing.  
  
"You might do better practicing the sword instead," a calm voice advised from behind.  
  
She whirled around to see Sacherell of Wellam. He was smiling slightly, studying the staff she had been interested in.  
  
"I mean to say," he continued," that your skill with the staff and glaive are unmatched, from what I've seen of your training. You're probably excellent with the pike, and you're clearly the best in your class when it comes to tilting and hand-to-hand combat. So you should bring up your sword skills to match the rest."  
  
Kel listened, her hazel eyes wide. She knew her sword fighting was not as good as the rest, but it still stung to hear it from someone else. "Sire?" she asked timidly, unsure of what response a random knight's criticism warranted.  
  
He smiled casually, pulling her toward the rack of swords. "I think this one might suit your style," he said, gesturing toward a thin, long sword. "If you ask, they'll let you try it out.  
  
The clerk gave her permission and she did a few practice thrusts.   
  
"Try again, this time with your elbows closer to your waist. Try to minimalize your movement.  
  
Kel did as he said, making a few clean passes. The other squires commented on how much better it looked.  
  
"Efficiency," Neal murmured as Kel came to a halt. "The less energy you spend on useless actions, the more you can spend on smiting your enemy."  
  
Sacherell laughed. "I think we'll make a knight of you yet, Queenscove--though Wyldon would rather be hanged." He turned back to Kel. "How would you like to study fencing with me?"  
  
She nodded. "As long as Lord Wyldon doesn't mind, and it doesn't keep me away from my knight-master." Kel fought to keep any shame from her face. She and Neal were the only masterless squires remaining.  
  
Sacherell's face fell. "You mean you already have a knight-master? I was trying to ask you--"  
  
"No!" Kel interrupted, ignoring all of Master Oakbridge's rules of etiquette. "I meant, 'should I get one anytime soon.' I didn't realize you were asking me to be your squire."  
  
Sacherell gave an embarrassed laugh, his blue eyes sparkling. "Mithros, Raoul //did// tell me that you would keep me on my toes."  
  
"Lord Raoul?" Kel asked. Had Lord Raoul put him up to this?  
  
"Come with me, Kel," the knight said, placing her sword back on its mount. Together they exited the building, leaving her three bewildered friends inside.  
  
"I have to be honest," Sacherell began as they walked. "Raoul pointed you out to e as a squire candidate, but I didn't want to be your knight-master at first. I only agreed to watch you squires train because he was so adamant--he even said that he would have taken you as his own, if it weren't for his position with the King's Own. He wanted me to take you on because it would give him an opportunity to work with you. You see, sometimes I work with the King's Own--commanding the second company when its usual leader is at court, or out of commission for whatever reasons."  
  
Kel swallowed thickly. "So you're taking me on as a favor to Lord Raoul?" This was worse than being Sir Gareth's ink-fetcher.  
  
Sacherell stopped short and stared hard at her. "No--that's what I'm trying to explain.  
  
"You see," he continued, "once I saw you in training, I realized that you deserved every good word Raoul put in. He's known to exaggerate and extrapolate on occasion, if it suits his needs, but this time he got it just right. Your leadership skills could use some honing, but you're yards ahead of everyone else. In fact, the only thing you need to improve greatly is your fencing-and that's always been a strong suit of mine."  
  
Kel nodded. "So I've heard. Only the Lioness and Lord Wyldon have consistently beaten you."  
  
Sacherell nodded. "Well, Geoffrey, too." He smiled. "If you agree, you'll work with me primarily, but also spend time learning strategy and tactics with Raoul. Is this acceptable to you?"  
  
She couldn't have asked for more, given her situation. As much as she had dreamed of studying with the Lioness, she had known that it would never happen. But now she had an opportunity with two knights she admired and worked well with.  
  
"That's more than acceptable," Kel said, smiling at her new knight-master.  
  
Sacherell looked relieved. "I would tell you to move your things into the room adjacent to mine, but things are much different than what they once were. I don't even have permanent rooms in the palace anymore." Beyond his playful pout, Kel was certain she could see a hint of genuine wistfulness in his tone.  
  
"So I stay in the squires' wing when we're at the palace?" she asked.  
  
Sacherell nodded. "But you _will_ be spending time in my quarters--in the study--so you'll have to prepare yourself for slanderous comments."  
  
Kel sighed, but kept her face Yamani-smooth. Her voice, however, was low and dry. "I've been dealing with _that_ since my second year, sir."  
  
He grimaced. "No doubt." He shook his head suddenly, as if clearing his thoughts. "Go on back to your fun, Keladry. We'll discuss more tomorrow."  
  
*****  
  
By suppertime that night, all of Kel's squire friends knew about her new knight-master, and as soon as she saw the pages, she told them as well. Owen and Warric congratulated her verbally while Prosper of Tamarin gave a friendly thump on the back.  
  
Neal alone remained quiet, and Kel wondered what was on his mind. She studied him carefully as they ate, urging him to finish his vegetables. He was sulky, though, and snapped at her.  
  
"I'm nineteen years old," he growled. "I know what I should eat."  
  
Kel was taken aback. The only time Neal ever snapped at her was when he thought she was being stubborn. //He's driving himself crazy over his lack of a knight-master,// she realized. //He probably suspects that every one thinks he's too old.//  
  
"You know, my dear lady Keladry, that Wellam and Mindelan border each other?" Cleon asked, oblivious to Neal's mood.  
  
"Seeing as how I was born in Mindelan, yes, I _do_ know that," Kel responded dryly, still studying Neal carefully. "What's you're point?"  
  
Cleon grinned. "We'll be neighbors. I can stand under your window and sing love songs until the wee hours of the morn."  
  
Kel snorted. "Hardly. I'll be spending a lot of time with the King's Own, so you'll have to crow at someone else."  
  
"Alas, dewdrop in my--"  
  
"Can you please save the romantic cat-and-mouse banter for another time?" Neal scowled, standing and picking up his tray as soon as Lord Wyldon dismissed them.  
  
Kel and Cleon stared at Neal, speechless, as he left the room.  
  
"You know, it is rather silly for you two to go on like this," Seaver said, breaking the silence of the table. "If you want to be sweethearts, just say it."  
  
Cleon's face burned red and he began to stammer unintelligibly.  
  
Kel sighed. "He's just funning anyway," she protested before following Neal.   
  
He was in his room, lying on his bed, when she finally caught up with him.   
  
"No book?" she asked, gesturing to his empty hands.  
  
He shook his head. "Too much to think about."  
  
Kel sat down next to him, fighting the urge to brush his hair with her fingers. "Do you want to talk?"  
  
He looked up at her for a long moment, studying her. "I'm sorry I snapped at you at dinner."  
  
Kel shrugged. "Everyone does at one point or another. Snap, I mean. I yelled at Joren up on the wall that night-I lost my temper completely. But I guess you saw that."  
  
Neal shook his head. "No--we didn't get there until you'd already started fighting." He paused. "I king of wish I'd seen it though, come to think of it."  
  
Kel grinned. "So what's bothering you? Is it this waiting around for a knight-master?"  
  
Neal grimaced. "Not exactly." He sat up, his eyes level with Kel's. "You see, I _have_ been approached by a knight. Before dinner I had a conference with my father about it."  
  
Kel swallowed the lump forming in her throat. There was only one reason Neal would keep this from her. "It's the Lioness, isn't it? Sir Alanna asked you to be her squire."  
  
Neal nodded, looking more miserable than she had ever seen him. "It seems that she's been keeping tabs on you through my father, and learned a bit about me in the process."  
  
Kel turned away, hoping Neal hadn't seen the tears that were beginning to block her vision. She couldn't let him know how upset she was.  
  
"She's going to teach me to heal, Kel," Neal said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"You know, Neal, I always thought you'd make a better healer than a warrior, anyway." She tried to smile. "Other than fencing, you're an accident waiting to happen."  
  
He ruffled her hair playfully. "I wouldn't be too angry."  
  
She shrugged. "It's not like it's her fault or mine that we can't work together. And maybe by working with you, she can prove to Lord Wyldon that she _is_ interested in helping with training, and no one will think anything when she becomes the knight-master to the _next_ girl who trains."  
  
Neal whistled lowly. "You're very optimistic. There will always be conservatives like Joren or the Stump who will fundamentally oppose the training of women."  
  
Kel shook her head. "Lord Wyldon has changed so much, though. I think he might be bending--I've proven to him that girls can work just as hard, and do all the things everyone else can do. He's intelligent enough to know that he can't keep repeating the same argument if the evidence that can prove him wrong is lurking nearby."  
  
"And Joren?" Neal asked. "What about people like him?"  
  
She sighed. "People who cannot bend will eventually have to break. The more people can accept female warriors, the more people who oppose will eventually change their minds and accept something that has become so normal. I'm sure a loud minority will always remain, but I hope there will be more women around willing to show them the truth. Look at Sir Alanna--despite her hundred enemies at court, she is loved by thousands of Tortallans. And even if she is disliked for her gender, no one who sees her fight can keep from respecting her skills."  
  
"Quite a mouthful, Kel," Neal chortled. His face then grew serious. "I hope what you say is true, if only for your sake." He quickly leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. When he pulled away, his lips curled into a mischievous smile. "It's a travesty that someone like Joren stole your first kiss."   
  
to be continued... 


	11. KnightMaster

After a two and a half year hiatus, I managed to pick up my old papers and start writing again. I'm also going through and editing the previous chapters, the ones that weren't beta-read. (bad idea.) I don't know what kick-started me this time, but I'm thanking The Dancing Dove. Haven't been there? You really should give it a try. Intelligent conversations, fun people, and a wonderful fanfiction challenge. This chapter's dedicated to them, with thanks.  
  
// - denote italics  
  
Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her direct permission.  
  
The Squire Years Chapter Eleven: Knight-Master  
  
When Kel woke the next morning, surrounded by the sparrows she had spent far too little time with during the battle scenario. They cluttered around her, perched on her pillow and chirping angrily. Jump was on her bed-- something he usually reserved for the cold of winter. Kel wondered if leaving them behind had been a good idea after all. With her healing, she had neglected them the days after the scenario; last night she'd barely managed to get into night clothed. She felt as though yesterday had been some kind of dream. Did she really have a knight-master?  
  
She rose from bed and dressed slowly. As she donned her breeches, her eyes fell upon the row of Yamani cats that rested on the windowsill, one paw raised. Perhaps she would give one to Neal as congratulatory present, for obtaining the King's Champion as his instructor.  
  
Neal.  
  
Her mind seemed to halt and she absent-mindedly brought her fingers to her lips. Had he really.? Had she.? Her face burned with mortification. Yes, she had liked Neal for longer than she cared to admit. But now she understood his usual preference for pining secretly. It was safer.  
  
Had his kiss meant anything?  
  
//Certainly not,// she decided as she buttoned her shirt. He'd just been teasing. Everyone knew how much Neal liked to joke around. //He hadn't really been in a teasing mood, though,// she reminded herself. //Maybe he was sincere.//  
  
Kel grabbed her glaive and began her patterns. "Of course it was in jest. Neal //never// confesses to girls he likes."  
  
She ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach and focused on her exercises. There were more important things to think about, after all.  
  
****  
  
She reported to Sir Sacherell immediately after breakfast. He was staying in the wing of the palace reserved for guests of noble Tortallan lineage. It was lush and comfortable, decorated with velvet and gold leaf, but Kel suspected it as less lavish than the rooms intended for foreign dignitaries.  
  
Sacherell sat in the small study, writing rapidly at an ornate mahogany desk. "I'll be done in a moment," he said absently. "Have a seat."  
  
Kel sat in one of the overstuffed chairs and glanced at the stack of books resting on the table next to her. They were the Books of Diamond, Gold, Silver, Bronze, Copper, Glass, and Amber--the seventh and most recent appendix of noble lineage. Kel knew that her family appeared in the book of Amber, having only recently become part of the ruling class. Her mother's line traced back to the Book of Bronze.  
  
She picked up the Book of Diamond and flipped through casually. These were the very oldest and most noble families of the Eastern Lands. Very few Tortallan names jumped out at her. Conté, of course, was listed. Ha Minch. Queenscove. Wellam.  
  
Her eyes darted over to her knight-master. His boots were worn, his shirt rather out of style. He hardly looked like he would be a descendant of one of the most prominent families on the continent. Perhaps, like in the Yamani family Ajikuro, one's assets were not in the form of money, land, or palaces, but in marriage politics. If the Wellams survived through marriage to wealth, the family itself needed only its name.  
  
"Those books are rubbish," he said finally, sealing his letter. "My blood is supposed to be so pure and wondrous, but my family has little to show for it. Meanwhile the Merons of Persopolis have control of the Great Southern Desert, and a name that appears in the Book of Glass."  
  
"Then why do we keep them?" Kel asked.  
  
Sacherell shrugged. "Tradition." He waved the letter in his hand. "I send this note to Gareth of Naxen that says I have taken on a squire from the Book of Amber, and it is marked in your favor. Maybe, years down the road, a clerk will see all of the various positive marks given to the Mindelan line, and your fief will be granted another seat in the King's Council." He snorted. "Never mind that my blood cannot determine that I'm a good person, or that I have made good judgment in choosing you."  
  
Kel nodded, remembering yesterday's conversation with Neal. "The most nefarious villain of our time was a Conté, after all."  
  
Sacherell glowered. "Not to mention the sorcerer who raised him, who was from the Book of Gold," he said darkly, making the sign of evil on his chest.  
  
He picked up a large box from the desk and carried it with him to the ornate sofa opposite Kel. "There are many things about Tortall that are unjust," he said, sitting down. He rested his hands atop the box and gazed at her intently. "It is our duty to recognize then and challenge them. But Tortallan politics do not allow for swift change. So, as much as I am loathed to do so, I have to send this documentation of lineage to Gary's clerk. Before I do, however, I want you to know that I well never hold you in contempt for your recent nobility, your foreign upbringing, your unorthodox knight training, or anything else that we have no control over.  
  
"All I ask of you," he continued, "is that you work hard. I want you to bring honor to me, to your family, to your king. And to Lord Wyldon."  
  
Kel looked at him strangely when he said Lord Wyldon's name. While he certainly had never been disrespectful to the training master, she'd never heard him being //respectful//, either. "Sir?" she asked, hoping for some kind of explanation.  
  
"I haven't had a squire in years. My excuse has always been my work with the King's Own. However, Lord Wyldon and King Jonathan both know that my real reason has been a matter of pride. Wyldon and I had both been in the running for the position of palace training mater. I have been known to disagree with much of Wyldon's practices, but I know he is a good and experienced teacher. I don't want my reputation as a rabble-rouser to rub off on you, so it is important that you do your absolute best. It was hard enough getting him to agree to let me take you on as my squire."  
  
"Why did he agree, sir?"  
  
Sacherell smirked. "Because I come from the most Conservative family in Tortall. And while I side more strongly with the Progressives, I am well known for my verbal oppositions to King Jonathan. And I'm known for preferring fairness and justice and all the things that have put my family in charge of the courts for the last century. My great-uncle, is in fact the Lord Magistrate currently. You know him from the examinations, I believe?"  
  
Kel's eyes widened. "Duke Turomot?" The old man was sour and disagreeable and easily the most conservative man she'd ever met. Nothing at all like her impression of Sacherell.  
  
He nodded. "Not the nicest man in the world, but quite possibly the most fair." He shrugged. "I've heard of //your// love of fairness, as well. I'm thinking we should get along well."  
  
Kel smiled at her new knight-master. Although he seemed to randomly volley between jovial and serious, she found him all together agreeable.  
  
Sacherell finally handed Kel the large box. "Here are the things you'll need immediately--tunics in the family colors, the Wellam shield. If you have any armor or weaponry concerns, let me know and I'll put in the order."  
  
Kel nodded, fingering the copper-orange tunic. "Certainly, sir." She again noted the state of his boots, and thought a quick prayer of thanks for her benefactor. While there was plenty still needed, it was nice to know that some of the burden would be taken from Sir Sacherell's shoulders.  
  
****  
  
For the rest of the morning Kel worked with Sacherell, going over weapons and a work schedule. The squires, she had discovered, had much looser educational standards. They were required to meet with their teachers while they were at the palace, but assignments were replaced with projects and essays--things that could be worked on while they were away from the palace. Gradually the number of lessons would decrease, as they neared their Ordeal of Knighthood.  
  
She did not catch up with her friends until dinner. Esmond dominated the conversation, talking about his morning with Conal. Kel ate in relative silence, occasionally stealing glances at Neal. His expression was impassive--almost Yamani-smooth.  
  
Kel's meager appetite abandoned her completely when his eyes finally met hers. He didn't grin or blush or indicate in any manner that something had transpired between them the previous evening.  
  
"Eat your vegetables," he said with a smile. Kel tried to grin back.  
  
//It was nothing,// She told herself firmly. //You're his pal, his little sister. And that's all.//  
  
"Why so glum?" Merric asked her.  
  
Kel was jolted out of her mantra, surprised to see six pairs of eyes focused on her. "N-no reason," she stammered, her mind grasping at potential decoys. "How soon do you all leave with your knight-masters?"  
  
"Aww," Cleon cooed. "She's going to miss us!"  
  
Roald snorted into his cup of juice. "She won't miss //you//, of course." His serious blue eyes focused on Kel. "I'm stuck here for at least another month."  
  
"I ship out when the Congress ends this week," Seaver announced.  
  
"Me, too," chorused Merric and Esmond.  
  
Neal set his fork down, his dinner complete. "Tomorrow. My knight- mistress insists that staying confined to the palace drives her mad. I insist that we leave as soon as possible, if that's the case."  
  
Kel tried to smile. "I should've got you to help me with my crescent strokes today, then."  
  
"You're with a Wellam now," Merric said with a snort. "Neal's good, but the Wellams are a sword-wielding family. You're not going to need this fellow anymore."  
  
Neal made a face. "I would think that best friends come //before// knight- masters."  
  
Roald and Cleon grinned at each other. "Not for the next four years," Cleon smirked.  
  
To be continued. 


End file.
